


bloom how you must, wild until we are free

by SlantedKnitting



Series: big bangs and challenges [21]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Dragons, Druids, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/pseuds/SlantedKnitting
Summary: Uther banned magic in Camelot for a period of 25 years. Now that time is up, and Arthur, as the new king, must go live with the druids for a week and decide if he wants to renew the magic ban.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: big bangs and challenges [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1172240
Comments: 99
Kudos: 653
Collections: After Camlann Big Bang





	bloom how you must, wild until we are free

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[ART] bloom how you must, wild until we are free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167180) by [schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart). 



> Immense thanks to [ji-ang](https://ji-ang.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta a gal could ask for, year after year after year :)
> 
> Also enormous thanks to my artist, schweet_heart, who keeps getting stuck working with me. I’m so lucky to have gotten to work with her yet again, and her art for this year is truly beautiful.
> 
> As always, thanks to the mods for running this fest for another great year :)
> 
> Title taken from [this poem](https://poets.org/poem/cento-between-ending-and-end) by Cameron Awkward-Rich

Arthur gazed down at the ring on his first finger, tracing the etchings with his eyes. It had so many flourishes, and he’d long ago memorised them all, but it was still beautiful and sort of fascinating. He resisted the urge to take off the ring and hold it up for a closer look, instead returning his attention to his council.

Leon, the commander of his knights, was explaining the plan they’d negotiated for how Arthur would keep in communication with his knights during his visit to the druid territory.

Arthur just didn’t understand the point of the visit or of these meetings. He’d made up his mind about magic and those who practised it. He’d made up his mind years ago, under the influence of his father who, by all accounts, had been a great king. Now Arthur was the king, and he was going to carry on Uther’s legend.

“Anything else?” Arthur asked when there was a pause in Leon’s droning.

Leon frowned, which meant there was likely a lot more to cover. Arthur sighed and gestured for the meeting to continue.

He couldn’t believe he had to do this. His father should have just banned magic indefinitely when he’d had the chance. Instead, he’d banned it for only twenty-five years, promising that, when that period of time was up, he or whoever was king at the time, would visit the druids for a week to…

To what end, Arthur wasn’t sure. To learn their ways, to see how magic worked, to listen to their pleas? None of it would matter. He was going to ban magic for another twenty-five years, or even longer if he could. Magic users were meddling in the unnatural, and all they ever did with it was evil and power-grabbing. It couldn’t be tolerated, and Arthur had no intention of disgracing his father’s legacy by undoing his decree.

The meeting dragged on and on, and Arthur looked down at his ring again, trying to anchor his mind to something so he wouldn’t fall asleep.

The ring had belonged to his mother, whom he’d never met. She’d died giving birth to him, and Uther had never quite recovered from the loss. He hadn’t exactly been there for most of Arthur’s childhood, and he’d never been the doting or affectionate type. Even up until his death, he’d been hard on Arthur, always pushing him to be better, do better.

Still, Arthur had loved his father, and he wasn’t going to ruin his one lasting legacy. Magic was unnatural and led to evil, and there was no reason to allow it back in Camelot just because the initial twenty-five year ban was reaching its end.

“It would be best, sire, if you agreed to wait a few days before making your decision.”

Arthur registered the silence in the room and looked back up from his ring, replaying the last few words in his head.

“Why is that?”

“They’re going to ask you to reconsider,” one of his advisors said.

“So? I’ve been considering for months. What difference will a few days make?”

“It would show respect.”

Something in Arthur’s chest burned at the thought of showing respect to the druids, and he opened his mouth to ridicule the idea, but then he saw Leon’s face. Leon was nodding his head as if he agreed with the other advisor. He was smiling as if he liked the idea of showing respect.

Arthur paused to breathe and think it over. He trusted Leon more than anyone else in the room, and if he thought it a good idea to show respect to the druids then there must be a good reason as to why.

“And we’re showing the druids our respect because…”

Arthur let the question hang. Everyone there knew the druids had likely continued using magic since the ban went into place. They lived so separately, so secretly, that it was near impossible to enforce the ban with them. For all anyone knew, they’d been planning and plotting for this moment, ready to overthrow Arthur and claim the throne for their own. If they weren’t going to respect the law and the crown, why should Arthur respect them?

“They have powers we know nothing about,” the advisor said. “We don’t want to anger them.”

“You think they would dare to use magic against me in an attempt to get me to allow it again?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Leon said. “All the same, we don’t want to anger them by appearing not to listen. They’ve been waiting twenty-five years for this. Surely we can give them a few days of our time.”

“I’m already giving them time,” Arthur said. “I want to declare my decision as soon as possible. Wouldn’t it be kinder just to get it over with?”

Leon frowned again, and Arthur sighed. He didn’t like being made to feel unreasonable.

“Fine,” he said. “When they ask me to reconsider, I will take my time with the decision. Within reason.”

“Good. I think we can stop there for today,” Leon said. There was a low murmur of disagreement among the other advisors. Clearly they wanted to continue. Arthur was done, though, so he stood, and everyone else followed.

He nodded his thanks to the council and made his way back to his chambers.

~~~~

At last, the day came. Rather, the night came because the druids had requested to meet under cover of darkness.

Arthur didn’t understand why. He would have much rather have met first thing in the morning and gotten it over with. Instead he had to wait around all day, letting his servants feed and dress him and listening to his advisors give him last minute updates.

He was beyond ready when the knock on his chamber doors signalling it was time finally came. He hurried out of the castle and onto his horse. His servants scurried along behind him, trying to fix his hair one last time, adjusting his belt, billowing out his cloak once he was settled on the horse.

“Sire,” Leon said, walking his horse over to Arthur’s. The sun had finished setting, and Leon’s red cloak looked a dark maroon under the moon. Arthur imagined his looked the same. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, shooing away his servants. “Is everyone else?”

Leon nodded, so Arthur took the reins and urged his horse to get going. He led the party out of the courtyard, past the city, and into the woods.

They didn’t have too far to go. At a leisurely pace, it would take them less than an hour to get to the clearing where the druids wanted to meet. Arthur would have preferred the druids come to him and for the negotiations to be conducted in the throne room, but the council had advised him to follow the druids’ wishes.

Everyone was being so careful to respect what the druids wanted. Arthur couldn’t comprehend it. Surely they all knew it was for naught. The druids weren’t going to get what they really wanted, which was for magic to be allowed again. Arthur, as king, was the one with all the power. Surely his desires should been taken into account and favoured over what the druids wanted.

Uther had always ruled based exclusively on what he wanted. Arthur hadn’t wanted that, had wanted more input from his council, had wanted to do right by his people and actually listen to what they had to say. Days like this, though, made him want to reconsider how he ruled.

Out in the distance, Arthur could begin to see the druids’s fires. There was a line of torches leading up to the clearing, and a large fire in the middle of it. Arthur urged his horse into a trot, eager to get the meeting started and over with. The sooner this happened, the sooner he could get the whole business over with, and the sooner he could get back to his normal life.

Once they reached the torches, Arthur slid off his horse, handed the reins over to a servant, and walked into the clearing.

There were a few druids standing in front of the bonfire, but none of them looked likely to be the leader. None of them came forward to greet Arthur. None of them were even looking at him. They were watching the rest of Arthur’s party dismount and enter the clearing. There were advisors, knights, and servants, all crammed into the space behind Arthur.

“Welcome,” one of the druids finally said, “King Arthur and friends. My name is Mordred.” He gave a small bow, and, as he righted himself, Arthur took him in. He dressed exactly like Arthur had expected the druids to look. He was wearing dull clothes that looked haphazardly put together, like style was nothing and he was just wearing whatever he had managed to get his hands on. Still, he looked young and friendly, and Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“We are honoured to have you with us,” Mordred continued. “We have longed for this day.”

“I am glad it is here as well.”

“The druids have a long history in Camelot,” Mordred said, and to Arthur’s horror, he started telling that history. He told of alliances between druids and past kings, wars the druids had assisted with, promises made between Camelot’s rulers and the druids, friendships forged.

Arthur clasped his hands and tried to look engaged, despite having no interest in the history of the druids. He pushed on the ring on his finger with his thumb, spinning it around. No matter how the druids liked to think of themselves, magic could not be allowed. If they weren’t kept in check, the druids would come to resent the power Arthur held and come after him, with magic, to overthrow him. Uther had been wise enough to foresee this, and Arthur was going to continue down that path.

When Mordred finished, Arthur dropped his hands to his sides. “Thank you for sharing,” he said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he asked, “Who among you is the leader?”

Mordred glanced over his shoulder and seemed to be looking _through_ the fire at whatever was behind it. “He is coming,” he said.

Arthur watched, curious, as a group of people emerged from behind the fire and made their way to the front of the clearing.

“King Arthur,” Mordred said, his eyes still on the nearing group, “may I present our leader, Emrys.”

The druids parted, and Emrys came into view, backlit by the fire. He was remarkably pale in the moonlight.

Emrys wore a thick dark blue cloak fastened with ornate clasps. There were gloves covering his hands, which carried a knotted staff with some sort of large gemstone at the top, and his shirt had a stiff high collar that covered almost all of his long neck. The only visible part of him was his face, which was elegant and still. He had a long jawline, blue eyes that pierced Arthur with their stare despite the dark, and brown hair that was just long enough to almost have a bit of a curl to it.

He had thin chains falling from one earlobe, hanging down to just above his shoulder. He wore a something like a circlet on his head, and above that he wore a chain of flowers and dangling vines.

Arthur had never seen anyone dare to look so important in front of him.

“Welcome,” Emrys said, and his low, weighty voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine. “King Arthur, it is a great pleasure to meet you.”

Arthur bowed his head, struggling to tear his eyes off the man in front of him.

“We have waited twenty-five years for this night,” Emrys said, and Arthur looked back up at him. He looked barely the same age as Arthur. Now that he thought about it, Arthur had been expecting someone older, a druid elder, someone who could recall the time before Uther had banned magic. There was no way Emrys had been around that long ago. Arthur himself had been only days old when the ban went into effect.

“Yes,” Arthur said when it became clear Emrys was waiting for him to speak. “It has been a long time coming.”

“I imagine,” Emrys said, and Arthur was struck by how unnaturally still he was when he spoke, “that you would prefer to continue the present conditions for another twenty-five years.”

Arthur offered a smile. “I am open to alternatives.”

“Are you?”

Arthur dropped the smile. “You requested my presence, and here I am.”

“Yes. Here you are. With your knights armed to the teeth, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You would not begrudge me a simple precaution.”

“King Arthur,” Emrys said, still unmoving, “you have my promise no harm will come to you during your stay.”

“And what is your promise worth to me?”

“If I came to live at the castle at your request, would you harm me?”

The question was absurd. Arthur would never invite someone like Emrys into the castle.

Except, he had wanted the druids to come into the throne room for this meeting. And he wouldn’t have tolerated anyone harming them during the visit, not while they were under his hospitality.

Arthur closed his eyes, reminding himself that at the end of all this, he would be able to reinstate the ban on magic and go back to the way of life he knew.

Besides, maybe it would be good to reopen relations with the druids. If Arthur could make good with them, he would be able to keep a closer eye on them. He would be able to punish those who went against the ban and continued to use magic out here in the woods. He would be able to quash magic from all of Camelot once and for all.

“We ask for seven days, at most,” Emrys said, and Arthur looked back up at him. “It may take less time.” Arthur nodded, and Emrys nearly smiled again. “Please, return home and pack what you will need. You can meet us back here in the morning.”

“Thank you.” Arthur bowed his head, surprised the druids did not want anything more from this first meeting. “I bid you goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Arthur had to shake off the feeling that those last words were a threat. He turned, collected his men, and went back to the horses. As he mounted, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the druids still standing in the clearing, each of them perfectly still, watching. It was unnerving.

Arthur hurried to turn his horse away and head back to the castle.

~~~~

Arthur slept fitfully, half-dreaming of Emrys as he tossed and turned under the covers. He couldn’t get comfortable, and he couldn’t get his mind to settle.

His servants finally came to wake him up just before dawn, and he ate his breakfast while directing them on what he wanted packed for his trip.

Leon came into his chambers as Arthur was finished being dressed and helped himself to the last bites of Arthur’s breakfast.

“You’re lucky I tolerate you,” Arthur said, watching Leon chew.

Leon swallowed and flashed a grin. “Are you almost ready?”

Arthur stepped away from his servants to stop them from messing with his clothing any longer. “I’m ready,” he said.

“Good. I’ll escort you.”

Arthur let Leon lead him through the castle to the courtyard, his servants trailing behind him with his sack of clothes. He was surprised to see most of the council waiting for him outside.

“Thank you for coming to see me off,” he said once he was on his horse.

“Good luck,” one of the advisors said. Arthur nodded his thanks and turned his horse toward the towns.

“Are you nervous?” Leon asked once they were on their way.

“No,” Arthur said, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He definitely felt something, but he couldn’t tell if it was nerves or just the result of a night of bad sleep.

“Are you excited?”

“Maybe.”

Leon just shook his head at Arthur’s shortness and let them ride in silence the rest of the way to the clearing.

When they reached the line of torches, unlit in the daytime, Arthur brought his horse to a stop and dismounted. He tied it to a tree and waited for Leon to get off his own horse.

“They’re already here,” Leon said, looking ahead at the clearing. There were several people standing near the bonfire pit.

Arthur hoisted his sack of clothes over his shoulder and headed toward it.

“Are you sure about this?” Leon asked, grabbing Arthur’s arm and stopping him.

“You’re the one who’s been trying to convince me this was a good idea.”

“I do think it’s a good idea,” Leon said. “I just want _you_ to think it’s a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine.” Arthur shrugged out of Leon’s grip and went into the clearing.

Mordred was there, along with some other druids Arthur thought he recognised from the odd circle the night before. And in the middle of all of them, waiting for Arthur’s arrival, was Emrys.

He was dressed very differently today. He didn’t have the cloak, which allowed Arthur to see how thin he was, and he was missing his strange earring and the crowns and the staff. He still wore his gloves, though, and he had on brown trousers, a blue shirt belted around his waist, a red scarf that obscured most of his neck, a brown jacket, and strappy boots.

He could have passed for any Camelot townsperson if he’d wanted to.

Arthur was struck with the idea that it was entirely possible Emrys _had_ passed as a townsperson at some point. Maybe other druids had as well. Maybe they had always been coming in and out of town, unbeknownst to Arthur or anyone else.

“Good morning,” Emrys said, and his whole face lit up with a smile. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Arthur was completely taken aback by the greeting. This was a very different Emrys than the one he’d met last night. Last night, the man had been stiff and formal and distinctly unfriendly. This morning, he seemed perfectly willing to display a little personality and hospitality.

“King Arthur keeps his word,” Leon said when Arthur didn’t respond.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Is this where we will meet in the evenings for word from the king?” Leon asked.

Emrys smiled again. “Yes. I’ve tasked Mordred here with coming to this clearing every night at dusk. He’ll come with a letter from the king, if that’s all right with you?”

Leon seemed satisfied with that and nodded. He turned to bow to Arthur.

“Good luck, sire. Try not to have too much fun.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smirk, which seemed to have been Leon’s goal because he walked off smiling. Arthur watched him untie the horses, mount his own, and grab the reins of Arthur’s to lead it back to the castle.

“Shall we?” Emrys asked.

Arthur turned away from Leon and, passing his sack off to a surprised-looking Mordred, followed Emrys out of the clearing and toward the druid camp.

~~~~

Arthur wasn’t actually entirely sure where the druids lived. He’d seen hints of them while out on patrol before, but he’d never come across any dwellings. As Emrys took him further and further into the woods, he started to realise why. He’d never been this far into the brush before. The trees were so thick he’d never have gotten a horse through here. Emrys led the way, moving branches out of the way so Arthur wouldn’t get hit in the face, and Mordred trailed behind, holding Arthur’s sack out in front of him like a shield.

Eventually, they reached a small cliff, and down in the grassy valley was an entire village.

Emrys headed down the cliff and Arthur slid after him, losing his footing a few times but reaching the bottom without incident.

“Would you like to put your things down?” Emrys asked. “Rather, Mordred, would you like to put Arthur’s things down?”

Mordred, who looked a little worse for the wear from their trip through the woods, nodded.

“All right, I’ll take you to my tower first.”

“Tower?”

Emrys smiled and pointed off in the distance. Arthur looked in that direction and could see, poking above the encampments, some sort of taller structure.

As they moved toward the tower, Arthur could see all the druids coming out of their homes and stopping their daily work to watch. He wondered what news had spread amongst the druids about his visit, what they thought of his presence. He kept his eyes peeled for anyone using magic but didn’t see anything at first glance.

The tower was set apart from the camp and turned out to be a large stone archway with what Arthur supposed was a tower on top. It looked large enough for one story, maybe two. There was one window toward the top that looked big enough to be a doorway. The grass on either side of the archway was overgrown with wildflowers.

“You live here?” Arthur asked.

Emrys simply smiled as Mordred went into the archway. Arthur followed, finding a small staircase.

He went up and found that inside the tower was a single room. There was a bed, a low cupboard with books stacked on top, and a table with one chair. The window was up near the ceiling, and there were more stairs set into the wall leading up to it. Emrys’s staff was leaning against one wall, his crown hanging off the top of it.

Mordred dropped Arthur’s sack on the floor.

“Thank you, Mordred,” Emrys said, and he seemed to take that as a dismissal because he nodded and left.

“Why do you live here?” Arthur asked when they were alone.

“Why do you live in a castle?” Emrys asked.

“Because I’m—” Arthur huffed. “You’re not a king.”

“No, and this isn’t a castle.”

“You’re very strange, Emrys.” Arthur looked around, trying to imagine living in such a bare room. Back in his own chambers, he had a large bed, plenty of cupboards and wardrobes, shelves for his books, a table for his meals and meetings, trunks full of trinkets, and access to anything else he could have wanted. Emrys barely had anything.

“You can call me Merlin, if you like.”

“Who’s Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Emrys grinned. “I am. It’s the name my mother gave me.”

“And Emrys is…”

“Emrys is what the druids call me.”

“You say that like you’re not one of them,” Arthur said.

“I wasn’t born one, if that’s what you mean. I grew up in Ealdor, in Essetir.”

“And how did you come to be the leader of the druids?”

Merlin smiled. “Perhaps I’ll tell you before the seventh day. Would you like a tour?”

“I have a lot more questions.”

“I’m sure you do. We will have supper together, and I can begin to give you some answers.”

Arthur paused, wanting to get into his questions now.

“Please,” Merlin said, “I’d like to show you around.”

“Fine,” Arthur agreed. He moved his sack to the chair before following Merlin back down the archway.

The village, small as it was, was similar to the town that surrounded the castle. Merlin showed Arthur around, introduced him to the healers, showed him where the children studied magic and learned to read, pointed out the smiths, led him over to the farmlands, let him meet the livestock and those that cared for them. Everyone had a job in the village, everyone was doing their part to help the others survive, everyone had a purpose and a home.

The houses were shabby, and no one had particularly nice clothes. It was clear the druids were a poor people, though they seemed happy enough. Villagers smiled and waved at Merlin as he gave Arthur a tour, chatted amongst themselves, and generally carried on as if the king of Camelot wasn’t wandering through their town.

All in all, it felt suspiciously normal. No one seemed to be using magic. Arthur didn’t know what to make of it. If they weren’t using magic, what had been the point of sequestering themselves away from the rest of Camelot? Surely if this was how they lived, they could have just stayed in the city and carried on as normal.

“You’re very quiet,” Merlin said when they stopped to watch a man making pottery.

“I don’t understand,” Arthur admitted. “If you have so much magic, why is no one using it? Everyone is doing work by hand. Surely it would be faster and easier with magic.”

“Have you ever seen magic, sire?”

“No.”

“Hm. How do you think we have managed to live here for so long, untouched by the powers of Camelot?”

“You’re well hidden,” Arthur said, feeling foolish that he had never sent any men out this far before. He should have known better, should have pushed his men harder, should have sought out the druids well before this.

“We are well protected,” Merlin said. “There are creatures and illusions that keep our land safe. If you were to wander through by accident, you would see nothing but an empty stretch of grass and dirt. If you were to come by with intent to harm us, there are creatures of magic that guard the woods and would prevent you from ever reaching us.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. They had been using magic to hide and protect themselves all these years. Of course they had been.

“We had no choice but to leave our other homes,” Merlin said. “King Uther was hunting our kind, killing anyone he suspected of being a druid. We were forced here, forced to enchant our surroundings to keep us secret. It is only recently, with this anniversary coming, that we opened up the lines of communication at all. We had no idea there was a new king.”

“I suspect you hoped I would be amenable.”

“We were, although we didn’t think it likely when we found out you were his son.”

Merlin’s tone wasn’t exactly kind, but Arthur was proud to be associated with his father’s judgement.

“You speak about all this as if you were there,” Arthur said after a pause. “You can’t be older than I am.”

“No. But our elders were there, my father was there, the stories have been passed down.”

“Was your father a druid?”

“No. But he was kicked out of Camelot all the same.”

“Then he practised magic,” Arthur said.

Merlin sighed. “He was a great man.”

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but then registered the tense Merlin had used. “Was?”

“He died some years back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Arthur said, thinking of his own father’s death.

“I did not know him well,” Merlin said. “He did not hide with the druids. He didn’t feel it safe. He had been too close to the king.”

“He knew my father?”

“He advised your father. He had… rare magical qualities.”

Arthur didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t believe his father had had magic users in his council. It seemed too out of character for the man who had banned magic and banished all who practised it.

“Do you have rare magical qualities?” Arthur asked. “Is that why you are the leader?”

Merlin simply smiled. “I’m afraid I have business to attend to. You are free to do as you wish. Mordred will find you when it is close to dusk, so you can report back to your people.”

Before Arthur could say anything, Merlin turned and walked off, leaving him.

Arthur sighed. He wished he had his council to help him make sense of all this.

He wandered back through the village, taking in the sights and the smells and the everyday sounds that filled the air. The druids seemed… peaceful. Arthur had always been told that they were a powerful, possibly vengeful people who would overtake the throne at any opportunity.

No one he saw seemed ripe for the crown. Even Merlin seemed a reluctant leader.

When he’d circled the village twice, Arthur went over to the cliff he’d climbed down earlier and sat, observing the druids from a distance.

The town, if it could even really be called that, was full of people Arthur’s father had run out of Camelot’s cities. It was full of their children, who had grown up knowing they were rejected by the king. And yet no one was lashing out at Arthur. No one had done so much as give him a dirty look.

They didn’t seem to be an evil people, contrary to what Arthur had been told so many times.

And how had his father been advised by magic users? Surely that couldn’t have been true. Merlin must have gotten his information from a bad source, or maybe he was purposefully lying to Arthur to try to influence him.

If Arthur were back at the castle, he could simply go down to the archives and check the court records to verify what Merlin said. Arthur had never been very interested in the history of the court, but the resource was there if he ever needed it, and now would have been the perfect time.

Maybe he could get Leon to bring him some court records. Yes, he would write to Leon, whenever Mordred came to fetch him, and he would ask for the court records. He would confirm that his father had never been advised by magic users. He would confirm that Merlin was wrong.

~~~~

Arthur sat on the cliffside for hours, watching the villagers go about their daily business, thinking about his father, wondering what his council was doing in his absence, planning his note to Leon.

Finally, when the sun was far in the western sky, Mordred emerged from the village and made his way over to Arthur.

“King Arthur, I’m to bring a message from you back to the clearing. If you’ll come with me.”

Arthur stood, brushing off his trousers, and followed Mordred back into the village. Mordred lived in a small, one-room house, and he guided Arthur to sit at his table.

Scroll, ink, and a quill were laid out for him. Arthur took the quill and began writing, trying to ignore that Mordred was watching him.

**_Leon — all is well. Please bring me the court records starting from the year I was born._ **

Arthur rolled up the scroll and handed it to Mordred. “What do you do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t see you on my tour of the town earlier. What do you do to make yourself useful?”

“I patrol,” Mordred said, sliding the scroll into a pocket inside his jacket. “And I assist Emrys.”

“Why do you call him that?”

“It is his name.”

“He says his name’s Merlin.”

Mordred smiled. “Yes. That is his name.”

Arthur huffed. “Are you aware that you’re not making any sense?”

Mordred sat down opposite Arthur at the table. “Your name is Arthur,” he said, “and you are called King Arthur. His name is Merlin, and he is called Emrys.”

“It means king?”

“No.”

Arthur still didn’t understand, but it didn’t seem like he was going to get a better answer out of Mordred.

“Go and deliver my message,” he said, getting up. Mordred bowed his head.

Arthur left Mordred’s house and went back to the tower, finding Merlin tending to the flowers that grew at the base of the archway. They looked brighter than they had that morning, more colourful.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, wondering if Merlin had left him to go garden all day.

Merlin hurried to put on his gloves. “Nothing,” he said and led Arthur up into the tower.

The table had been pushed over to the bed, and Merlin sat on the bed, gesturing for Arthur to take the chair. There were two bowls on the table, filled with some sort of stew, and a plate of bread between them.

Arthur took his seat. “Did you make this?” he asked, eyeing the bowl.

“Yes.”

“Do you always do your own cooking?”

“I’m often invited to dine with others, but I have been known to pick up a stewpot now and again.” Merlin smiled and grabbed a bit of bread, dipping it in the stew before eating it.

Arthur picked up his spoon and tested the stew. It wasn’t bad. “Are you going to tell me how you became leader of the druids?” he asked.

Merlin chewed slowly before answering. “I promise it’s not an exciting story. I couldn’t stay in Ealdor, so I set off to find the druids. My mother thought I would be safe with them.”

“How did you find them, if all those protections are in place?”

“They knew I was coming,” Merlin said. “They let me pass.”

“How did they know you were coming?”

Merlin smirked. “Can’t you guess?”

“What, magic?” Merlin nodded. “How does that work, exactly?”

“It’s not something that can be easily explained,” Merlin said. “Perhaps you can visit our Seer. Maybe she will be able to tell you.”

Arthur tore off a piece of bread and ate it, wondering why Merlin had to make everything so difficult. He wasn’t interested in visiting some Seer, whatever that was. This was only the first day of his visit, and he was already ready for it to be over.

“So,” he said eventually, “you left Ealdor, came here, and they just made you the leader?”

“Something like that. The long version of the story involves a prophecy, but it’s not a very enticing tale.”

Arthur didn’t really believe that but decided not to push. “Tell me,” he said instead, “do you know why my father only banned magic for twenty-five years?”

“You say ‘only’ like it’s a short period of time.”

“I mean, as opposed to forever, which I’m sure was the more appealing option.”

Merlin stirred his stew and took a few bites before answering. “I believe he was warned. I mentioned there were magic users among his advisors.”

“Yes,” Arthur said, wishing he already had the court records to prove Merlin wrong.

“They would have told him of the consequences. Magic isn’t meant to be contained or controlled. It’s meant to live as it is, free and natural—”

“It’s not natural,” Arthur said.

Merlin gave an indulgent smile. “No, I don’t imagine you would think so. It is of nature, though. It’s an earthly power.”

Arthur took another piece of bread instead of responding.

“Your father understood that about magic,” Merlin said, “or at least, he believed those who did understand. They knew magic would fight back.”

“You mean the people who practise magic would fight back.”

“With real suppression comes real danger,” Merlin said quietly. “And your father didn’t want to cause any more harm. He’d already lost his wife.”

“What does she have to do with it?” Arthur asked.

Merlin frowned and went back to his food. Arthur ground his teeth, frustrated with the conversation and Merlin’s inability to answer simple questions. Wasn’t he supposed to be arguing for his cause and trying to get Arthur to allow magic back in Camelot?

“What did you do today?” he asked, wondering if he could at least get a straight answer out of that.

“Oh, this and that,” Merlin said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and took a large mouthful of stew. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. The room grew darker as they ate, the light from the high window fading until they were finished and Merlin got up and light torches that hung on the walls.

“I think I’ll read,” Merlin said, picking up a book from his cupboard. “You’re welcome to put your things in here,” he said, opening the door and showing Arthur that it was empty on one side. “Leave the bowls, I’ll take care of them.”

With that, Merlin sat himself on what looked like a pile of rags and opened his book.

“Where exactly am I sleeping?” Arthur asked.

“On the bed,” Merlin said without looking up.

“And where are you sleeping?”

“Right here.”

“On the floor?” Arthur asked. “Surely there’s a spare bed in town you can—” Arthur cut himself off when Merlin glanced up at him.

“I’ll manage,” he said with a smile and then returned to his book.

Arthur shook his head and went over to the cupboard, unpacking his sack and putting his clothes inside. When that was done, he lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until he drifted off, listening to the sound of Merlin turning pages in his book.

~~~~

Arthur woke up breathing in the scent of an unfamiliar pillow. He clenched his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up and not be in the druid tower. When he opened his eyes, though, he was in the druid tower, and he was alone. Merlin’s makeshift bed was empty, the table had been pushed back against the wall, their bowls were gone, and the torches were out. Arthur was lying on top of the covers, still fully dressed from the day before.

With a sigh of resignation that he had another strange and frustrating day ahead of him, Arthur sat up and stretched. Merlin’s bed wasn’t as comfortable as his own back at the castle, and he felt stiff and achy all over. He couldn’t imagine Merlin was faring any better after sleeping on the floor.

“You’re awake,” Merlin said, appearing at the top of the stairs.

Arthur stood. “I am. How long have you been up?”

“Not long. I didn’t want to disturb you. Would you like to bathe?”

“Probably should,” Arthur said, glancing around the room. He didn’t see a tub or even a bucket he could use.

“I’ll take you to the river,” Merlin said. “Get your clothes.”

Arthur went to the cupboard and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Merlin handed him some cloth and led the way down the stairs.

“Does everyone use the river?” Arthur asked when they reached the bottom.

“It’s a very clean river,” Merlin said. He led Arthur away from town, toward some woods in the distance.

“That’s not what I asked,” Arthur mumbled. He followed Merlin the rest of the way in silence.

“Will you get back okay or do you want me to stay?” Merlin asked once they reached the water. It was more like a creek than a proper river.

“I’ll get back okay,” Arthur said. He set his clothes and linen towels on a large tree branch. He pulled off his shirt, and when he looked around, Merlin was already heading back toward the village.

Arthur finished undressing, leaving his dirty clothes on the ground, and waded into the creek. At the deepest point he could find, it only went up to his waist. He crouched down and began splashing himself with water.

The water had a particular shimmer, as if there were several suns beating down on it. It nearly glowed. The longer he stayed in the creek, the more he noticed how good it felt on his sore muscles. He was feeling more refreshed by the minute, and even his old training injuries were feeling a little better.

“I see Emrys hasn’t scared you off yet.”

Arthur looked up to see Mordred approaching. He set down his things on the branch next to Arthur’s and began undressing.

“Should I be scared off?” Arthur asked, looking away.

He heard Mordred get into the water and waited a few seconds to turn around. Mordred was on his knees in the water, bent over at the waist to get his hair wet.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest,” he said.

“It’s only been one day,” Arthur said. “I promised seven.”

“No offence, but your family doesn’t exactly inspire faith.”

Mordred went back to washing his hair, and Arthur scrubbed water over his own face. He had no need to inspire faith in Mordred, no desire, in fact. But he still felt ruffled by Mordred’s statement. Arthur was usually proud of his family, proud to be associated with his father. It wasn’t often he heard either spoken about in a negative way.

“How are things going with Emrys?” Mordred asked, and there was something sort of sly about his tone, like he was insinuating something. Arthur wasn’t sure what.

“Fine,” he said. “Did you deliver my message yesterday?”

“Yes, Sir Leon took it. He said he’d be back with your book tonight.”

“Good.” Arthur sank lower in the creek and let the water wash over him, watching it sparkle and feeling it soothe his body. “This is a very odd creek,” he said.

“How do you mean?”

“It doesn’t look like normal water,” Arthur said. “And it’s rejuvenating.”

“Are you going to banish the water if I tell you it’s magic?”

Arthur said nothing to that, opening and closing his hands underwater, trying to see if he could feel the magic. The only thing he could feel was the refreshing chill of the water.

“I didn’t know there were rivers like this,” he said.

“You wouldn’t,” Mordred said. “Camelot doesn’t welcome magic.”

“Someone enchanted the water?”

“No,” Mordred said. Then, “Maybe. It’s always been like this, as far as I know. I suppose someone could have encouraged it, but it happens naturally where magic is allowed to thrive.”

That didn’t sound right to Arthur. Magic was something people practised, not something that just popped up in nature.

Except, hadn’t Merlin said that magic was of nature, an earthly power?

“Do you practise magic?” Arthur asked.

Mordred looked away instead of answering.

“And Merlin?”

“Emrys doesn’t practise magic,” Mordred said. “He _is_ magic.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked.

Mordred shook his head and started cleaning himself again. Arthur stood, shaking out his hair, and went to dry himself off with Merlin’s cloth. He dressed in his clean clothes, collected his dirty ones, and started back toward the tower. Mordred remained silent and didn’t follow him.

~~~~

When he reached the tower, Arthur found it empty. He shoved his dirty clothes in his sack and picked up the book that was on Merlin’s pillow. It seemed to be a book of spells, their descriptions and incantations written out in detail.

Merlin had been studying magic right under Arthur’s nose the night before. Arthur wondered what he would have done if he’d realised that at the time. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he would have told Merlin off. Or maybe he would have let his curiosity win out and asked some questions.

Arthur put the book down and descended the stairs, nearly walking right into Merlin at the base. He’d changed into new clothes, this time a red shirt with a blue scarf that covered his neck. He was still wearing his gloves.

“There you are,” Merlin said, smiling. “How was the river?”

“Odd,” Arthur said.

“I suppose it is. Come, I’m helping to plant seeds.”

Arthur followed, curious, and Merlin led him to a patch of farmland with neat rows of dirt. There were other druids there, each pushing seeds into the mounds with their bare fingers. Their hands were filthy.

“Why are you helping with this?” Arthur asked, sure there were enough druids to get the job done without Merlin.

“I like to make myself useful. Come.” Merlin led him over to an old man, who gave them each a small bag of seeds.

“What plant is this?” Arthur asked, glancing in his bag.

“No idea,” Merlin said happily. “Here, I’ll start on this end, and you can start on that end, and we’ll meet in the middle.” He walked to the end of a row of dirt, crouched down, and began pushing in seeds.

Arthur had no idea why anyone thought he was about to do this. He was king, after all. He did not have to do this kind of labour, the servants and townspeople did it for him. If his father could see him now…

“I promise not to tell anyone,” Merlin called out to him, a wide grin on his face. “Come on. You might even enjoy yourself.”

Arthur sighed and got onto his knees near the dirt mound. He took a few seeds and pushed them into the ground, covering up the hole afterwards.

“Not so bad, is it?” Merlin asked.

Arthur ignored him and moved on, putting more seeds in a short distance away from the first batch. He moved along quickly, his refreshed body not even protesting the hard ground or awkward posture, and met Merlin in the middle of their row.

“How was that?” Merlin asked, patting the dirt with what Arthur could only describe as affection.

“It was…” Arthur glanced back at all the work he’d done. “Fine,” he decided.

“Good. Let’s do the next row.” Merlin stood and went to the next row before Arthur could protest.

They went on like that, meeting in the middle and then spreading out to the ends of the next row, until they had seeded half the land. The other druids had left, leaving them to it, and Arthur wondered if they thought of the work as below them. He certainly did. Maybe when he wasn’t around they used magic to do it for them.

“I haven’t seen anyone use magic since I got here,” Arthur said when he met Merlin in the middle of the final row of dirt.

“I asked them not to, not until you felt comfortable with it.”

“And what if I never feel comfortable with it?”

“Then you’ll never see it,” Merlin said, sounding sad.

“If you’re able to stop using it, then why didn’t you just stop using it when the ban went into effect? If you’re able to live by the law, you should.”

“Magic cannot and should not be contained,” Merlin said. “Besides, the king was actively chasing us out. We had to leave.”

“You weren’t there,” Arthur reminded him.

“Neither were you.”

Merlin sighed and started picking dirt off his gloves. Arthur didn’t care if he was annoying Merlin, it was nice to have the tables turned for once.

“Do you always wear those?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin said. He dropped his hands to his sides and looked out over the work they’d done. “Would you like to see magic?”

“Not exactly.”

“All right. I’m going to see what else they need help with. You’re welcome to go.” With that, Merlin went back over to the old man who had given them the seeds.

Arthur felt like Merlin was disappointed in him, which was absurd. If anything, Arthur should be disappointed in Merlin. He’d given up a week of his life for this, and so far all he’d gotten was a bunch of non-answers and a morning of manual labour.

He dusted off his hands and walked over to the cliffside. He sat down, feeling tired and hungry after working for half the morning, and watched Merlin feed the livestock.

At some point, Merlin left the farm and went back into the village and out of sight. Arthur couldn’t imagine what else he was going to get up to for the rest of the day. Maybe he would help the seamstresses sew some trousers. Maybe he’d help the healers concoct some potions. Maybe he’d surprise some unsuspecting family by cooking them dinner.

Maybe he was off somewhere doing magic.

Arthur couldn’t believe he’d offered to do it in front of him like it was nothing, like Arthur would be comfortable with that, like Arthur would want that.

Arthur would never want to witness to magic. He wanted nothing to do with it. Had Merlin forgotten who Arthur was, who his father had been?

He still didn’t understand why Uther hadn’t just banned magic forever. What Merlin had said the night before made such little sense. What had Uther had to fear by issuing a permanent ban? What did his mother have to do with anything?

Not for the first time, Arthur wished his father had been willing to discuss any of this before he’d died. He’d kept everything so close to his chest, so private, and all that did was leave Arthur with a lot of guesswork.

~~~~

Eventually, Mordred came out to the cliffside, the same as he’d done the day before.

“You’re allowed in the village, you know,” he said.

“I know.”

“Ready to write your message?”

“Yes.” Arthur got up and followed Mordred back to his house, where the table was set for him again. He sat down and considered what to write, not sure what he wanted to share. In the end, he decided to keep it simple.

**_Leon — all is well. I am looking forward to reading the court records._ **

He left it at that and handed the scroll off to Mordred. “Bring the book to Merlin’s tower once you have it,” he said.

“What’s the book about?” Mordred asked, putting the scroll in his pocket.

“Is there some reason you need to know?”

“No.”

“Then don’t ask again.” Arthur stood and left, heading to the tower for supper.

He found Merlin in much the same position as the night before, sitting on the edge of the bed with the table in front of him. There was more stew and bread, and some cheese this time. There was also a vase with a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table.

“These are nice,” Arthur said as he sat down.

“I just picked them,” Merlin said happily. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Boring,” Arthur admitted. “What else did you do?”

“Helped around the village,” Merlin said, and Arthur sighed at the vague answer.

“Your gloves look clean,” he said, watching Merlin eat. “You got all the dirt off.”

“I put on a different pair.”

“Why do you wear them all the time?” Arthur asked.

Merlin ripped off a piece of bread, cut off a slice of cheese, and popped them into his mouth.

“Are you not going to answer me?” Arthur asked.

“Not today.”

“Not today,” Arthur repeated. He dug into his dinner, deciding to drop it. He wasn’t in the mood for any more of Merlin’s non-answers, and the easiest way to avoid them was to not talk at all.

As they were finishing, Mordred came up the stairs with the court records for Arthur.

“I brought this from Sir Leon,” he said, holding out the book.

“Put it on the cupboard,” Arthur said, and Mordred did so, frowning.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“No,” Arthur said, and Mordred left.

“You could treat him a little better,” Merlin said mildly when they were alone again. “He’s not a servant.”

“He said he assists you.”

“That doesn’t mean he is my servant. He assists me because he has powerful magic,” Merlin said.

Arthur shrugged and set down his spoon. “Will you be reading again tonight?” he asked.

“Probably.”

“So will I.” He stood and went over to the cupboard, leaving Merlin to manoeuvre the table away from the bed.

The court records were bound in a heavy cover and sealed with a thin ribbon that Arthur untied. He opened to the first page and scanned the report, but it was mostly about crops.

“What’s your book?” Merlin asked.

“Court records.”

“Sounds… fascinating.”

Arthur smirked. “They can be,” he said, and took the book over to the bed. He sat on it sideways, his back against the wall, and began paging through it.

Merlin took their dishes outside, whether to wash them with water or magic Arthur didn’t know or exactly care. When he came back, he took his own book over to his makeshift bed and read in silence, leaving Arthur undisturbed.

The court records were full of accounts Arthur had never heard before. There were so many members of the court whose names he didn’t recognise, whose offspring were not members of Arthur’s own court. There was a Nimueh, a Balinor, and dozens more.

There were mentions of Queen Ygraine, Arthur’s mother, and Arthur ached to see her name so many times. She had been alive back then, had been active in royal affairs. Arthur couldn’t picture her in his mind. She was always faceless, a tall and elegant but utterly featureless queen.

He worried her ring around his finger as he read, trying to pull comfort from it because the more he read, the more he realised that Merlin had been right. There had been magic users in Uther’s council. The Camelot he read about seemed wholly different than the one he’d grown up in and inherited. Magic had been freely allowed in the city and outlying towns. Those who used it for good were praised and often rewarded, while those who used it for evil were either executed or exiled. Arthur got the impression, though, that most people simply used it for everyday tasks and that it mostly went unnoticed. It had been an unremarkable part of normal society.

Finally, Arthur found passages about his conception and his birth. He pulled his mother’s ring off and held it in his fist, tensing as his eyes raced over the page.

The advisor Nimueh had been involved, using magic to ensure Ygraine conceived.

_To ensure Ygraine conceived._

His parents had enlisted the help of magic for something so intimate, so vital as conceiving an heir. How could his father have entrusted a magic user with something so delicate and important and then turn his back and banish it mere months later?

The records said little about what exactly had happened at Arthur’s birth. He had been born, Ygraine had died, and Nimueh had been dismissed from the council and bodily removed from the castle, blamed for the queen’s death.

Uther spent several days locked up in his chambers, and when he emerged, he sent his men out into the city. They wrecked homes and gathering places, rounded up the known magic users and imprisoned them. Those that could escape did so, but Uther sent men after them as well. Many died.

Many, many died.

It was a slaughter, Arthur realised. Uther, mad with grief over his wife, had rounded up every magic user and done his damnedest to wipe them out.

Those that lived must have known their lives were in great danger and gone into hiding, like the druids, like Merlin’s father.

No one but Nimueh had done any wrong, but the entire magical community had suffered at Uther’s hand. Families had been wiped out. Generations of magic passed down had been lost. Traditions and spells and rituals, all gone.

The records went back to reviewing crops and debts and daily decisions made by the king. There was the occasional mention of a magic user being found and killed, but that was it.

Arthur closed the records and replaced his mother’s ring on his finger. He looked up, feeling dazed.

Merlin was still on the opposite side of the room, reading his spell book and looking innocent.

Maybe he was innocent.

Arthur changed into his bedclothes and got under the covers, slotting the court records beneath his pillow.

“Do you want me to put out the torches?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Arthur said, and he stared at the wall for what felt like hours before sleep overtook him.

~~~~

Arthur woke up before Merlin and stayed in bed a while, staring up at the window and watching the occasional bird fly by.

He’d had a horrible dream of burnings and beheadings and drownings, his father watching it all with a vindictive smile.

He had thought for so long that there had been a good reason, a better reason, for the ban on magic. Uther had always said that magic was evil, that those who practised it were after nothing but power, that the family’s royal status would be at risk if magic users were allowed to run free.

There had been no mention of a power grab in the court records. Arthur couldn’t figure out how Nimueh could have been trying to get the crown for herself by killing the queen. That still left Uther as an avenue to power, but she had to have known he would never marry her after something like that. Maybe she had hoped to enchant him, entrance him, trick him into making her his queen and giving her power.

That had to be it. That was a rational enough explanation for Uther’s hatred of magic. It has lost him his wife, nearly lost him his throne.

Still, though. Arthur knew the right thing to do would have been to remove Nimueh from the court and leave the rest of the magic users alone. Instead, Uther had gone on a rampage.

“Good morning,” Merlin mumbled from across the room.

Arthur glanced over to see Merlin rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He had slept in his scarf for some reason, but he wasn’t wearing his gloves. His nightshirt fell to his wrists, and Arthur could see something on the back of his hands. Something gold and intricately designed.

“Good morning,” Arthur said.

Merlin stood, stretched, and then helped himself to some bread and cheese left over from their supper.

“What’s on your hands?” Arthur asked, sitting up.

Merlin took his time chewing and swallowing before he answered. “Ink.”

Arthur had spilled ink on himself before, and it always rubbed off with enough effort, and it was always just a shapeless blob. Merlin’s ink looked purposeful and part of his skin and so delicate.

Maybe he had used magic on it somehow.

Merlin pulled on his gloves, gathered his clothes for the day, and, for whatever reason, went down the stairs to get dressed outside.

Arthur got himself dressed and tried to tame his hair, using a comb his servants had packed for him. He had never paid much attention to how his servants combed his hair, though. He started at the forehead and pushed back, but that just seemed to make matters worse.

“Here,” Merlin said when he reappeared, fully dressed. He came over to Arthur and held out his hand.

Arthur gave him the comb and watched, amused, as Merlin began combing his hair for him. His servants normally stood behind him for this, but Merlin was stood right in front of him, face to face with Arthur. His eyes were on his task, but Arthur couldn’t tear his gaze away from them. They were so blue, and his eyelashes were so long.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” Arthur said when he couldn’t stand the stifling silence.

Merlin continued combing Arthur’s hair. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry he was run out of Camelot. That couldn’t have been easy for him.”

“No. Nor for anyone else like him.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed. “You said you didn’t know him, though.”

“I met him once.” Merlin stepped back and checked his work before giving the comb back.

“What was his name?”

“Balinor.”

Arthur’s stomach did a funny turn. “He was in my book,” he said. “In the court records.”

Merlin glanced at the book under Arthur’s pillow. “Really? What did it say?”

“That he was an advisor to the king.”

“He was the king’s dragonlord,” Merlin said, his gaze still on the book.

“What’s a dragonlord?” Arthur asked.

Merlin pursed his lips for a moment. “They can control dragons,” he said after a pause. “Speak to them, command them.”

“Dragons died out years ago,” Arthur said.

“No.”

“No?” Arthur watched Merlin carefully. “Are you telling me there are still dragons?”

“Some,” Merlin said. “Two. That I know of, anyway. I’m sure there are more elsewhere.”

“Where are they?” Arthur asked, fascinated.

“In hiding,” Merlin said. “They are creatures of magic.”

“They’re _dragons_ ,” Arthur said. “What would they need to hide from?”

“From a king determined to snuff out magic at all costs. From a king who threw out the dragonlord that might have advocated for them.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest that surely dragons could still overpower any human, but then he thought about it. “Did my father go after the dragons?” he asked.

Merlin nodded.

“That wasn’t in the court records.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m not making it up.”

“No, I believe you.” Arthur saw no reason why it shouldn’t be true. Not with what he’d learned of his father’s behaviour the night before.

Merlin considered him for a moment. “Would you like to see one?”

“See…?”

“A dragon.”

“You can show me one?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” Arthur said quickly. “Yes, of course I want to see a dragon.”

“You have to promise—”

“I won’t hurt it,” Arthur said.

“Even after you return to the castle.”

“Even after I return to the castle,” Arthur agreed, excited. “It’ll be safe.”

“All right.” He paused for a moment, then took off his gloves and tossed them on the table. “Come with me.”

~~~~

Merlin led Arthur into the woods, toward the river. He took a sharp left once they reached the water and followed the creek for a long while.

Arthur kept sneaking glances at his hands, trying to see the ink patterns more clearly. Why Merlin had been so careful to cover them up? What made Merlin decide to finally show them?

“How does one become a dragonlord?” Arthur asked when they had been walking in silence too long for his liking.

“It’s passed down,” Merlin said. “Parent to child. They are… sort of… spiritually linked with dragons. It’s a special bond, that’s how they’re able to command them.”

“Your father was a dragonlord,” Arthur said.

“Yes.”

“So… does that make you one as well?”

“Yes.”

Merlin didn’t seem keen on discussing it for some reason. Arthur let the topic drop.

They continued walking until they came to a part of the creek that grew wide and so shallow Arthur could see the tops of stones above the trickle of water.

Merlin gave Arthur a nervous sort of look, and then he held his finger to his lips, indicating that Arthur should stay quiet. Then he leaned his head back and shouted at the sky in a deep, rumbly, terrifying voice.

“What was that?” Arthur asked in a whisper.

Merlin said nothing, just kept looking up at the sky. Arthur looked up, too, just in time to see a large bird flying down toward them.

Except, as it grew closer, Arthur could see it wasn’t a bird. It had wings but no feathers, just a stretch of thin, scaly skin between its bones. It had a tail. It was completely white, except for its blue eyes.

It swooped down and landed on Merlin’s shoulder, perching on its back legs. It brought one wing over Merlin’s head, as if protecting him from something. Then it looked at Arthur, its eyes narrowed and fangs bared.

“It’s all right,” Merlin said quietly, reaching up to pet the dragon’s scaly head. “It’s all right.” The dragon made a sort of chirping sound and folded its wings behind its back. “This is King Arthur,” he said. “King Arthur, this is Aithusa.”

“It has a name?” Arthur asked.

“She. And, yes, she has a name.”

“I didn’t know dragons had names,” Arthur said. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it. Off her. She was beautiful. He had never seen anything like her before.

“I named her,” Merlin said. “I hatched her.”

“You…” Arthur lowered his gaze to Merlin. “You hatched her? Like a chicken?”

Merlin smiled. “Not like a chicken, no.”

Aithusa began nosing at Merlin’s scarf, and Merlin shrugged her off. She flitted down to the ground and began splashing about in the shallow water.

“What do you think?” Merlin asked.

“She’s… very small,” Arthur said.

“She’s very young,” Merlin said. “The other dragon is much, much larger.”

“How large?”

“Well, he certainly wouldn’t fit around here, not without taking out a few trees. Normally I meet him in a field, where there’s room for him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Kilgharrah. He already had that name when I met him, I’ve never asked who gave it to him.”

“It could have been your father,” Arthur said.

“I think he’s older than that. He did know my father, though.”

Arthur continued watching Aithusa play in the water, thinking everything over. Dragons still existed. Merlin could talk to them. He could hatch them. There were two of them nearby that he knew of, one of them right here in front of him and Arthur.

He crouched down and held out his hand, wondering if she would be like a cat or a dog and come sniff at him. She eyed him warily and looked up at Merlin, who nodded.

Slowly, carefully, Aithusa made her way over to Arthur’s hand. She rubbed her nose against it, and Arthur petted her head, marvelling at the strangeness of cold hard scales under his touch.

She made her chirping noise, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile.

“She likes you,” Merlin said.

“Lucky me.” Arthur continued petting her for a while before standing back up. “She’s marvellous.”

Merlin grinned. “Yeah? I’d hoped you’d like her.”

Arthur forced himself to tear his eyes away from the dragon so he could look at Merlin. “Thank you for showing me.”

“Of course.” Merlin knelt down and scratched under Aithusa’s chin. “We’re going now,” he said in a quiet voice. “Be good.”

Aithusa chirped and, with a little jump, took off flying again. She circled their heads a few times, her tail brushing over Arthur’s hair, and then went higher and higher until she was above the trees and out of sight.

Merlin started heading back along the water, and Arthur trailed, skipping stones every now and then to keep himself entertained. He couldn’t believe he’d just met a dragon.

“I’m sorry my father went after the dragons,” he said after a while of walking. “I wish he hadn’t.” The weight of that sentence fell over him and he stumbled to a stop. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Merlin looked over his shoulder and stopped walking, too. “Didn’t know how bad what was?”

“When he went after the magic users. I didn’t know. No one told me.”

“But it’s in the records you read last night?”

Arthur nodded. They looked at each other for a moment.

“You asked,” Merlin finally said, “why your father banned magic for only twenty-five years.”

“Yes.”

“He knew you’d be in danger if he banned it for good. He made too many enemies, received too many threats. He didn’t want to put your life at risk. He didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“Why did Nimueh kill my mother?” Arthur asked.

“She didn’t. She warned your father that in order for a life to be made, a life had to be taken. He didn’t listen, or he didn’t care. He didn’t realise the risk.”

“She died because of magic,” Arthur said.

Merlin took a few steps closer. “She died so that you could live.”

Arthur shook his head. “They shouldn’t have used magic.”

“You wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.”

“Yes, but magic would still be allowed if…” Arthur trailed off, realising what he was saying.

“Do you want magic to be allowed?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Then there’s more work to be done,” Merlin said. “Come on.” He turned and continued leading the way back to the village.

~~~~

When they got back to the village, a young woman ran up to them, tears streaming down her face.

“Sefa,” Merlin said, reaching for her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“My father,” she gasped. “He’s gotten worse.”

Merlin took off running, and Arthur and Sefa ran after him. He ran into a house near the potter’s, closely followed by Sefa. Arthur slowed down as he approached, not sure if he would be welcome or if he should have stayed back.

He came into the house, and no one paid him any attention. Merlin was on his knees next to a bed where a man lay, shaking. He was pale and sweaty and clearly dying. Sefa stood to the side, her hand covering her mouth as she cried.

“Ruadan,” Merlin said. “Breathe in. Slowly. Good.” He turned to Sefa. “Have you fetched the healers?”

“They say there’s nothing to be done,” Sefa sobbed.

Merlin frowned and turned back to the dying man. “Sire, you need to leave,” he said without looking up.

Arthur startled. “Why?” he asked. “Maybe I can help.”

“Now,” Merlin said.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask, again, why he had to leave, but then Merlin gave him a sharp look, and he understood. Merlin was going to use magic to ease the man’s passing.

Part of Arthur wanted to stay, to finally see what it looked like.

But this wasn’t the time or the place, and this wasn’t about him. He left quietly, closing the door behind him and leaving Merlin with the dying man and his daughter.

He walked slowly through the village, eventually reaching Merlin’s tower and going upstairs. He sat on the bed and looked up at the window.

_“Do you want magic to be allowed?”_

Merlin’s words kept playing themselves over and over again in his mind, breaking down what he thought had been a very strong resolve to continue the ban on magic.

If no one had ever done anything wrong, if Uther had simply misinterpreted Nimueh’s actions and their effect, then those who practised magic didn’t deserve to be hunted.

He still wanted to believe that Uther had had a good reason to act the way he did, though. He pulled out the court records from under his pillow and started re-reading all the sections he’d read the night before.

After a time, Merlin came up the stairs and, without saying anything, went to lie on his makeshift bed. He covered his eyes with an arm and lay there, breathing quietly.

Arthur watched him, wondering if the man had died, wondering how his daughter was doing.

Merlin looked exhausted. His stillness meant Arthur could see the patterns on his hands more clearly. He didn’t know what they meant or even if they meant anything, but they were beautiful. There were gold rings inked around his fingers, shapes on the back of his hands, and a thick band around his wrists.

Arthur had so many questions.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Merlin finally asked.

Arthur bit down a smile and returned his attention to the court records.

Merlin sat up with a sigh and turned to face Arthur, his back against the wall. He lifted the scarf off his head, and Arthur glanced up to see more of the gold ink on his neck. There was an elaborate pattern of what looked like flowers wrapped all the around his neck, from just under his Adam’s apple to all the way down to where his shirt collar started covering it.

Arthur wondered what else his shirt was hiding, if he had ink on the rest of his arms and across his chest.

“The flowers still look nice,” Merlin said, looking at the vase on the table.

“Yes,” Arthur said without taking his eyes off Merlin’s neck. It was so long and slender, like the rest of him. And the gold ink was shining with the last rays of sunshine coming in through the window.

Merlin rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He looked tired.

“How’s the girl?”

“She’s all right,” Merlin said without opening his eyes. “She’s with a healer who’s going to give her a calming draught.”

“I’m sorry,”

“He’d been sick for a while.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“How’s your book?” Merlin asked.

“Confusing,” Arthur said. “I still don’t understand why my father did what he did.”

“Love and grief are funny things.” Merlin stood up and went over to the table. He lifted the bouquet of flowers to his face and inhaled. “Well,” he said, setting down the vase, “want to help me make supper?”

“All right.” Arthur put down the court records and followed Merlin downstairs and outside.

They went to the farm to get some vegetables from the community stores and brought them back to the tower, where Merlin had a fire pit out back. Arthur mostly watched as Merlin prepared the food, not sure how to help. Merlin didn’t seem to mind as he didn’t actually ask for Arthur to do anything.

Soon enough the stew was bubbling over the fire, and Arthur’s stomach was rumbling from the smells wafting from the pot.

“There you are.”

Arthur looked up to see Mordred approaching. “You weren’t in your usual spot.”

Arthur stood from where he’d been sitting against the tower’s archway. “See you managed to find me, anyway.”

“Do you want to come write your message?”

“Will you be all right?” Arthur asked Merlin.

“Oh, I’ll be just fine,” Merlin said, flashing a smile.

Arthur returned the smile before following Mordred back to his house.

“I see you and Emrys are getting along well,” Mordred said as they walked.

“Well enough,” Arthur said.

Mordred led Arthur inside, and Arthur sat at the table, wondering what he could possibly tell Leon about the day’s happenings.

**_Leon — all is well. There are dragons still living in the wild. I met one._ **

He rolled up the paper and handed it over to Mordred. “If Leon has any questions, feel free to come find me in the morning.”

Mordred nodded and headed off to the clearing, and Arthur went back to the tower. Merlin was still out back, ladling out portions of stew into their bowls.

“I figured we could eat out here,” he said, handing a bowl to Arthur and sitting down on the grass with his own.

Arthur sat across from him and stirred his stew to cool it. “What does Aithusa eat?” he asked.

“You know, I’ve never asked. Whatever she can kill in the forest, probably. Maybe rabbits or something.”

Arthur started in on his stew, watching the sun set behind the tower. The sky turned several vivid, brilliant colours as night fell, and before long they were sat in darkness, looking up at the moon and the stars.

Merlin set aside his bowl and lay down, resting his arms under his head as a pillow. “I love the night-time,” he said quietly. “It’s peaceful.”

Arthur lay down next to him, the dark sky seemingly endless above him. “Would you show me your magic?”

Merlin went very still. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Merlin got to his feet and removed the stewpot from the fire, letting the flames rise higher.

Arthur sat up to get a better view. Merlin held out his hand toward the fire. The flames shifted, slowly at first and then all at once until there was a small fiery dragon hovering above the firewood, flapping its wings and flicking its tail. It reared back and breathed a rush of flames toward Arthur.

It was magnificent.

Arthur dragged his gaze from the dragon and looked around to see Merlin watching him.

“Merlin,” he whispered.

Merlin cleared his throat and turned back to the fire pit. The dragon faded, and the fire went out, leaving them in the dark.

“It’s, um… it’s getting late,” Merlin said. “We should get to bed.”

Arthur watched Merlin’s silhouette move toward the tower. “Wait,” he said, scrambling to his feet and catching up. “We can’t go to bed, you just—”

“It’s been a long day, sire,” Merlin said as they reached the stairs. “I’d like to sleep.”

They stumbled up the stairs, which were completely dark, finally coming up into Merlin’s room, which was lit by moonlight. Without changing into his bedclothes, Merlin lay down on his makeshift bed, covering himself with a blanket and rolling over to face the wall.

Arthur stayed standing by the stairs for a long time, watching the spot where Merlin was sleeping.

He’d never seen anything like that before. It had been beautiful, so simple and wondrous. Merlin could have shown him anything, and he’d picked that spell.

“Go to bed, sire,” Merlin said after a while.

Arthur changed and got himself into bed, but stayed awake most of the night, watching the moon through the window, playing with his ring, and listening to Merlin tossing and turning, not sleeping either.

~~~~

Arthur woke up to the sounds of Merlin getting ready for the day. He could hear him walking around, getting dressed, moving books on the cupboard, shifting the flower vase. When it went silent, Arthur finally opened his eyes and looked around.

The room was empty.

Arthur rolled out of bed, got himself dressed, and was attempting to comb his hair when Merlin reappeared.

He said nothing, just came over and took the comb from Arthur so he could comb his hair for him. Arthur stood still, letting his eyes feast on the face of the man before him. Merlin looked tired, but his eyes were still a shining blue. He wasn’t wearing his scarf, so Arthur could see some of the golden flowers on his neck up close. He could see how long and thin Merlin’s nose was, how plump his lips, how high his cheekbones. He drank it all in.

“Why did you avoid me last night?” Arthur asked as Merlin stepped back.

Merlin turned away to put Arthur’s comb in the cupboard. “That was very dangerous for me,” he said. “Normally you would execute anyone who dared to perform magic in your presence.”

“Did I behead you?” Arthur asked mildly.

“No.”

“I asked you to do it, Merlin. I won’t punish you for it. I fully expected to see some magic during this visit.” He paused, waiting for Merlin to face him again. When he didn’t, staying at the cupboard, Arthur added, “I’m glad you showed me.”

Merlin finally turned toward him again. “You have all the power in this situation, sire.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say to that. And he wished Merlin would just call him by his name.

“I have to meet with Kilgharrah this morning,” Merlin said when Arthur didn’t respond. “Will you be all right on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Merlin nodded and headed back down the stairs. Arthur went over to the cupboard and picked up one of Merlin’s books, thumbing idly through it, looking at the different spells, until he was interrupted.

“King Arthur.”

He turned around to find Mordred by the stairs.

“Mordred, good morning.” He set down the book.

“Good morning. You asked me to find you if Sir Leon had any questions.”

“Ah, yes. How is he?”

Mordred shrugged. “He wanted to ask if you’re having a good time.”

Arthur smirked. “Of course he did. I’ll write him back this evening, thank you.”

Mordred nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Arthur said, and Mordred glanced back at him. “You said you practise magic.”

“Did I?.”

“Would you… would you show me something?”

Mordred looked like he had just eaten something rather horrible. “No, thank you,” he said, and he turned to leave again.

“Wait,” Arthur said, and Mordred paused but did not turn back around. “Merlin mentioned a Seer.”

Mordred sighed and looked over his shoulder. “What about her?”

“I’d like to meet her. Could you take me to her?”

“Fine.” Mordred headed down the stairs, and Arthur followed him.

They walked in silence through the village, and Mordred finally came to a stop outside a stone house. He knocked on the door, and a pale woman with long black hair opened it.

“King Arthur wished to meet you,” Mordred said.

The woman eyed Arthur with interest. “Very well,” she said. “Thank you, Mordred.”

“Have fun,” Mordred said before excusing himself.

“Come in,” the Seer said, standing back so Arthur could enter her home.

Arthur stepped inside and was hit with a strong smell of herbs and spices. The house was dark as the woman had boarded up her windows and there were very few candles lit. There was an unlit cauldron in the corner, and Arthur could only imagine what she liked to brew in it.

She closed the door and went around the room, lighting more candles so they could see each other.

“Well,” she said, turning to him. “How can I help you?”

“Merlin said you… well, that a Seer had, um, seen him coming, when he first got here. And that’s how he was able to get past all the protections.”

“Yes,” she said, sounding amused.

“I wanted to know how that works.” She considered him for a long moment, and Arthur shifted, uncomfortable under her gaze. “And I’d like to know your name,” he added.

“My name is Morgana,” she said. “I see things in my sleep.”

Arthur frowned. “That’s it?” he asked. “How can you tell what’s real and what’s a dream?”

“Sometimes I cannot,” she said. “Sometimes it is clear. You, for example.”

“What about me?”

“You have always been very clear.”

Arthur didn’t know how to feel about that. “What have you seen of me?”

“I’ve seen you with the dragon.”

“Did Merlin tell you about that?” he asked.

“No, I saw it.”

Arthur considered that. “What else have you seen?” he asked.

Morgana smiled like she knew all the secrets. “I’ve seen you with Emrys.”

“I’m with him every day,” Arthur said. “I’m staying in his tower.”

Morgana just continued smiling. Arthur found her very unnerving.

“The rest is not yours to know,” she finally said. “There’s a lot left in store for you, but it is yours to decide and discover. I can only advise you to follow your heart. Do what you know is right. The rest will follow.”

“I did not come for advice.”

“My apologies.”

Arthur looked at Morgana for a long moment, trying to decide if he should take her seriously or not. She could have heard about the dragon from someone, and of course he’d been with Emrys. She sounded like a fraud.

“You should know,” she said quietly, “that your father was not who you thought.”

“I’m starting to get that impression,” Arthur said. “What do you know about him?”

“More than I’m willing to share at this time.”

“Right,” Arthur said, frustrated. Here was someone who might be able to help him figure it all out, and she was denying him whatever information she had. Maybe she really was a fraud. What could she possibly know about Uther that Arthur didn’t?

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Morgana said.

“It’s fine,” Arthur said. “Thank you for your time.” He left, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air as he opened the door, and went back to the tower.

~~~~

Arthur found Merlin at his table, reading through the court records and eating cheese.

“Sorry,” Merlin said when Arthur came up the tower stairs. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. “Anything interesting in there?”

“It’s all interesting.” Merlin closed the book. “How was your morning?”

“Odd. I asked Mordred to take me to the Seer you mentioned.”

Merlin looked surprised. “Oh? How did that go?”

“Very strangely. She’s not really the most forthcoming, is she?”

“Can you blame her?” Merlin asked. “Imagine if she went around telling people their business all the time. No one wants that. We all like to believe we have choices.”

“Do we?”

“I like to think so.”

Arthur sighed and looked at the court records, wondering what secrets there were hidden in the pages that he would never find out. “How was Kilgharrah?” he asked.

“Good. He was impressed you asked to see magic.”

“You talked to him about me?”

“Is that a problem?” Merlin asked.

“I suppose not. What else does he say?”

“He reminded me that time is running out. We’re halfway through the week, and I promised it wouldn’t take any longer than that.”

“Indeed, you also said it might not take the full seven days.”

“Are you getting bored of me?” Merlin asked with a smile.

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way, no.”

“Good. There’s still more I’d like you to see.”

“More magic?” Arthur guessed.

“Maybe. I’d like to take you to meet Kilgharrah. He promised me he’d behave.”

“Behave?”

“He wasn’t exactly a fan of your father.”

“No,” Arthur sighed. “I don’t imagine he would be.”

“He knows you’re different, though.”

“Am I?” Arthur asked. He’d taken everything his father had ever told him at face value, never questioning the motives, never seeking out other sides of the story. He’d made up his mind about magic as a child, listening to his father’s warnings. He’d watched his father execute magic users without protest. He’d decided to extend his father’s ban on magic before he’d even set foot in the druid camp.

“I think so,” Merlin said.

“Everyone seems to know more about my father than I did.”

“What did Morgana tell you?”

Arthur frowned. “Practically nothing, why?”

Merlin shook his head. “No reason.”

“What does she know?”

“It’s not for me to say,” Merlin said gently.

Arthur huffed. He was so sick of not being able to get complete answers out of anyone. How was he supposed to make a decision about lifting the ban on magic if no one was willing to be straight with him?

“I think I’ll go with Mordred to the clearing this evening,” he said. “I need a break.”

“I’m sure Sir Leon would be glad to see you.”

“Yes.”

“Are you close?” Merlin asked.

“He’s my most trusted advisor,” Arthur said.

“And what does he think about all this?”

Arthur shrugged. In truth, he had tuned out most of what anyone on his council had been saying about the magic ban and his visit to the druids. He’d been so certain, so clear, so ready to issue another twenty-five year ban. He’d thought he didn’t need anyone else’s input. He’d ignored all the signs, and looking back there were many, that his council and Leon especially were open to a different ending.

“He’ll support whatever decision I make,” Arthur said.

“He sounds very loyal.”

“All my men are.” Arthur said. “They wouldn’t be my men if they weren’t.”

“Good.” Merlin stood. “I have to go visit Sefa.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be back for supper.”

Arthur nodded, and Merlin left. Arthur took the court records off the table and sat with them on the bed, flipping through the pages he’d already read twice.

He had no reason to believe Merlin’s versions of events over his father’s. Merlin hadn’t even been there, and he had every reason to lie to Arthur to get him to reverse the magic ban.

But his version made more sense. And there was no evidence of Uther’s version, of a magical plot to overthrow him, of anyone doing something truly evil. There had just been one mistake, a mistake Uther could have prevented if he’d only listened to those who knew more about magic than he did.

Arthur put the book under his pillow and lay down, letting himself drift off to thoughts about meeting Kilgharrah.

~~~~

“King Arthur. King Arthur!”

Arthur jerked awake and saw Mordred standing over him.

“Oh,” he croaked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

“Are you ready to write your message?” Mordred asked.

“No,” Arthur said, standing up. “I thought I’d skip the message today and come with you to the clearing myself. I’d like to speak to Leon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Mordred led the way outside, through the town, up the cliff, and into the woods.

Leon was already there when they reached the clearing, and he startled at the sight of Arthur.

“Sire,” he said, bowing his head. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Arthur assured him. “I just thought I’d come in person tonight.” He glanced at Mordred, who took the hint and waited on the edge of the clearing near the woods, out of earshot. “I miss the castle,” he said. “How is everything?”

“Running smoothly, sire,” Leon said. He paused and then asked, “Are there really dragons?”

Arthur grinned. “Yes. I met one. A baby one. There’s an adult I’m hoping to meet as well.”

“I had no idea they still existed.”

“Me neither, but they do. No thanks to my father.”

“What do you mean?”

“He went after them,” Arthur said. “When he went after the magic users, I guess he went after the magic creatures as well.”

“He killed dragons?” Leon asked. “Was that what was in the court records?”

“No. Actually, the records didn’t get into specifics with the creatures.”

“Then how do you know?”

“The druids told me.”

“And you believe them?”

Arthur nodded. “They seem to know a lot more about my family’s history than even I do.”

Silence fell between them, and Arthur thought back to Morgana and what she’d hinted at. He just wished she would have told him what she knew about his father.

“Sire,” Leon said, “have you seen magic?”

“Just once. Merlin showed me last night.”

“Who’s Merlin?”

“Emrys. Merlin is… another one of his names. It’s a bit confusing.”

“What was it like?” Leon asked.

Arthur wasn’t sure how to describe it. It had been so mystical and mysterious. And he didn’t want to take away from that moment by putting it into words.

When Arthur didn’t respond, Leon asked, “Have you made your decision yet?”

“No,” Arthur admitted.

“Will you take the full seven days?”

“I’m not sure. Merlin keeps saying he has more to show me. I guess it depends on how long that takes.”

“And you trust him?”

“I don’t know if ‘trust’ is the right word,” Arthur said. “But I’m not afraid of him.”

“Good.” Leon glanced over Arthur’s shoulder at Mordred. “Should I let you get back?”

“Probably.” Arthur held out his arm and they shook. “It’s been good to see you.”

“You, too, sire. I look forward to your return.”

“I do, too.” Arthur turned and went over to Mordred. “I’m ready,” he said.

Mordred gave a wave to Leon and then led Arthur back through the woods and toward the druid village.

“Mordred,” Arthur said as they walked, “why are you so hesitant to talk to me about your magic?” When Mordred didn’t respond, Arthur added, “Merlin says you’re very powerful.”

“Emrys is more powerful than I am,” Mordred said. “And I thought you hated magic.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Arthur said, although he knew that if someone had asked this time last week, he would have been quick to say he hated magic and those who used it. “I am trying to learn.”

“I use magic to protect myself, my friends.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

Mordred glanced over his shoulder, and Arthur realised he meant he used to magic to protect himself from the royal family and their wrath.

“I’ve been into the city, you know,” Mordred said, facing forward again. “By the castle.”

“You… have been?” Arthur asked, a little stunned that he would openly admit to that after being so cagey.

“I always wanted to live there.”

“Why don’t you?”

Mordred went quiet for a while. “I cannot hide who I am,” he finally said. “Nor should I have to.”

Arthur could appreciate the sentiment. He could only imagine having to face the choice of living integrated in Camelot and in fear of being found out or living in the total isolation of the druids.

They walked the rest of the way out of the woods in silence, and emerged to find Merlin waiting for them at the bottom of the cliff.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Good,” Arthur said, “All is well back at the castle.”

“Good. Thank you for escorting him, Mordred.”

Mordred nodded and headed into town.

“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having another guest with us for dinner,” Merlin said. “There’s not enough seats in the tower so we’ll have to eat outside again.”

“That’s fine,” Arthur said, curious who Merlin would invite to dinner.

They walked toward the tower, and as they got nearer, Arthur could see a woman standing underneath the archway.

“Freya,” Merlin called out when they reached it. He pulled a bouquet of roses out of seemingly nowhere and handed them over before embracing her.

Arthur watched, amused, as Freya admired the flowers and Merlin admired her.

“This is King Arthur,” Merlin said, belatedly remembering Arthur’s presence. “This is Freya.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Freya said. She seemed nervous, so Arthur flashed her a smile.

“Supper’s ready,” Merlin said, leading them over to the fire pit. He ladled out their portions, and they sat next to the flames to eat.

Arthur stayed mostly quiet, listening to Merlin and Freya talking like old friends. They seemed very close, and Freya kept looking at her flowers, and it was all very sweet.

Arthur could imagine the two of them off on picnics, going to see the dragons together, curled up in Merlin’s bed reading about spells. He bet Freya would be good at spells, and would be able to show Merlin her magic in response to Merlin showing her his own.

They probably had a lot in common. They probably spent a lot of time together.

Arthur finished his supper and wondered if it would rude of him to excuse himself and go up into the tower for the rest of the night. He didn’t want to stay out with the lovebirds for much longer. He felt like a third wheel. Merlin wasn’t paying him much attention.

“I’ll bring some back with me next time,” Freya was saying, and Arthur realised he’d zoned out of the conversation.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Merlin asked.

“Hard to say. Soon, I hope. I suppose it depends…” She trailed off, and Arthur looked down at his empty bowl. Whatever she was talking about, it wasn’t for him to know about.

“You know you’re always welcome here,” Merlin said.

“I know.” Freya smiled. “But you know I can’t stay.”

Arthur realised that Freya wasn’t one of the druid villagers. She was a visitor, like him, although it sounded like her visit would be much shorter.

“I know,” Merlin said. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll find a spot. I always do.”

“More?” Merlin asked, already taking Freya’s bowl to give her a second portion. He didn’t ask Arthur.

“Where do you live?” Arthur asked, and Freya frowned down at her stew.

“I travel,” she said. “I have a hard time staying in one place.”

“I met Freya on my way here,” Merlin said, and it took Arthur a moment to realise he meant on his first trip to the druid village. “She helped me find it.”

“Lucky you ran into her,” Arthur said.

Merlin beamed at Freya. “Yes.”

Arthur set down his bowl. “I think I’ll retire for the evening,” he said, getting to his feet. “Thank you for supper, as always,” he said to Merlin. And then to Freya, “Safe travels.”

“Goodnight, King Arthur,” she said.

Arthur waved and went up into the tower. He got into his bedclothes slowly, listening to the voices filtering in through the window. It sounded like Merlin and Freya were having a good time reminiscing and talking about Freya’s recent travels.

He sat at the table, and read through one of Merlin’s books, starting at the very beginning and getting through as much as he could. There were spells to heal, to move things, to summon things, to make fire, to make water, to break things, to mend things.

There was so much to magic, and all of it was out of reach for Arthur. He could read the spells out loud, strange as they sounded, but nothing happened when he did so. He even held out his hand, like Merlin had done the night before, but it made no difference. He couldn’t do magic.

The voices outside died down, but Merlin didn’t come up, and Arthur wondered if he’d gone off with Freya somewhere more private.

Arthur set Merlin’s book back on the cupboard and got into bed. Doing his best to ignore the strange pit in his stomach, he did his best to fall asleep.

~~~~

Arthur woke up alone, not sure if Merlin had ever back it back into the tower the night before.

He got up and got dressed and managed to comb his own hair, wondering what he could do for the day. Maybe he could go back to the farm and see if they needed help with anything else, that would at least be something to do and keep himself distracted with.

He noticed the flowers in the vase on the table were beginning to wilt. Taking the vase, Arthur went down the steps and around the archway to where the flowers grew. He pulled out the dead flowers and knelt down to pick some new ones.

“What are you doing?”

Arthur looked up to see Merlin walking toward him, grinning.

“Oh,” Arthur said. “I was… the flowers weren’t doing well, so I thought… maybe new ones…”

“That’s very nice of you.” Merlin sat down next to him and began picking his own flowers, although he didn’t put them into the vase. Instead, he started winding them together, tying some of the stems, crisscrossing leaves, building himself a crown of flowers like he’d worn the first night Arthur had seen him.

“Where did Freya go?” Arthur asked before he could stop himself.

“Where does she ever go?” Merlin asked. “Some secrets are better left unsaid.”

“Why doesn’t she stay?”

“She can’t,” Merlin said. “She’s not safe to have around a village.”

“What does that mean?”

Merlin shrugged and continued on with his crown. Arthur finished picking his flowers and stood to take the vase back inside.

“Would you like to meet Kilgharrah today?” Merlin asked before he could head for the stairs.

“Is he going to give me any answers?” Arthur asked.

“Probably not.”

Arthur sighed and looked down at the vase. His bouquet wasn’t nearly as pretty as Merlin’s original one had been.

“Fine,” he said, and then went up into the tower. He set down the vase and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Merlin to come collect him.

It took some time, but eventually Merlin came up the stairs, wearing one crown of flowers and holding another. He went over to Arthur and set it gently on his head. Arthur closed his eyes, remembering his coronation and wondering if Merlin really knew what it meant to crown someone.

“You’re like a child,” Arthur said, opening his eyes to see Merlin taking a seat at the table.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Arthur said nothing, just reached up and adjusted the crown. The flowers in his were mostly red, while Merlin had somehow managed to find gold flowers for his own. They matched the bit of ink Arthur could see on his hands. He hadn’t worn his gloves since that morning Arthur had first seen his hands.

All Arthur wanted was to understand. He wanted to understand why his father had done what he’d done. He wanted to understand how Merlin was able to do his magic. He wanted to understand what he was supposed to do.

“I like flowers,” Merlin said quietly. Arthur looked up to see that he’d taken off the crown and was holding it, tracing flower petals with his fingertips. “I had not seen Freya in over a year. It’s difficult to know if she’s alive or not when she’s gone for so long.”

“Why can’t she stay?” Arthur asked again.

“She is cursed,” Merlin said, still looking down at his crown. “At night, she turns into a creature that hunts to kill. She has no control over her own mind when she transforms. She’d kill half the village if she stayed.”

“That’s awful,” Arthur said.

“Yes. A great sorceress put the curse on her as revenge.” He looked up, his gaze fixed on Arthur. “No one denies that magic can be used for evil. It’s a choice. The druids choose peace. Others…” He shrugged.

“I understand,” Arthur said. “And I’m sorry about your friend.”

Merlin looked at Arthur for a long moment. “Do you think that we could be friends?”

“I dare say we’re skirting quite close to that.”

Merlin smiled and replaced his crown. “Come on,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go find Kilgharrah.”

~~~~

Arthur felt ridiculous walking through the woods in his flower crown, but at least he wasn’t the only one. Merlin, on the other hand, looked so at home under a wreath of flowers. It was sort of endearing. He seemed so happy.

Merlin led the way, going in the direction of the river at first but making a turn before they reached it, taking Arthur deeper into the woods.

“It’s just through here,” Merlin said at last, bringing Arthur through the thickest copse of trees yet. Arthur’s clothes kept snagging on the branches. “This is it.”

Arthur struggled out between two trees and found Merlin standing in the middle of an empty field. It looked wholly unremarkable.

“Why here?” Arthur asked.

“It’s secluded,” Merlin said. “It’s big enough, and it’s safe enough. Ready?”

Arthur nodded, so Merlin threw his head back and screamed at the sky in that same strange, dark voice he’d used to call Aithusa.

Nothing happened at first, just like with Aithusa. Then, Arthur heard a strange sound like wind whooshing nearby in waves. He looked up to see an enormous dragon coming in to land. He backed up, trying to give the great thing room, and nearly tripped over a mound of dirt.

“Careful,” Merlin said, chuckling.

The dragon landed in the field, and Arthur could do nothing but gape at it. It was simply too big, bigger than anything living thing Arthur had ever seen, bigger than it had any right to be.

“You can come closer,” Merlin said, and Arthur shook his head. He was good right where he was.

“Come now,” the dragon said, his voice booming. “I’m not going to burn you.”

Arthur’s mouth hung open. He hadn’t realised he’d be able to speak to the dragon as well.

Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand and tugged a little, forcing Arthur to move closer. Arthur stumbled forward, and Merlin gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“This is Kilgharrah,” Merlin said to Arthur. Then, louder and to the dragon, “This is King Arthur.”

“I see two kings before me,” Kilgharrah said, eyeing their crowns. “Fitting.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what to say to that. In the presence of an enormous dragon, he wasn’t sure what to say at all.

“I saw the Bastet last night,” Kilgharrah said.

“Yes, she came to visit,” Merlin said. “Was she all right?”

“She looked well-fed.”

Merlin grinned.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked quietly. He wondered if Merlin realised they were still holding hands.

“Freya,” Merlin said. “Kilgharrah saw her in her transformed state.”

“Did you meet the girl?” Kilgharrah asked, his gaze on Arthur.

“Yes,” he said uncertainly.

“Good. Who else have you met?”

“Mordred,” Arthur said, “and Morgana.”

Kilgharrah nodded his giant head. “And what did the witch tell you?”

“That my father was not who I thought.”

“Wise. But she did not tell you…”

Merlin’s fingers twitched in Arthur’s grip.

“Tell me what?” Arthur asked.

“She must have had her reasons,” Merlin said.

Kilgharrah shook his head. “The young king has a right to know.”

“A right to know what?” Arthur asked, getting annoyed.

“The witch is your sister,” Kilgharrah said.

The words hung heavy between them.

“When you say ‘witch’…” Arthur asked.

“I mean the witch, Morgana.”

“Right. And when you say ‘sister’…”

“You do not share the same mother,” Kilgharrah said. “But Uther fathered you both.”

Arthur thought about that for a moment, trying to comprehend what was happening. “That makes absolutely no sense,” he said. “My father only ever had one child.”

“And you know this how?” Kilgharrah asked.

“He would have told me.”

“Would he have?” Kilgharrah nodded. “Or would he have let another man raise her as his own to hide what he had done. Would he have learned of her powers and set his men after her? Would he have forced her into hiding amongst the druids?”

“He would have told me,” Arthur said again, although now he was feeling less sure. Kilgharrah’s suggestions lined up with what the court records had proved Uther had been capable of. Except, this had been his own daughter. Apparently. Supposedly. Would he really have let his hatred of magic blind him so much as to go after someone os his own blood? Or maybe he hadn’t considered her as kin, raised as she was by another.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, pulling on Arthur’s hand until he turned to look at him.

“Is this true?” he asked.

Merlin nodded. “As far as I’ve been told.”

Arthur shook his head. What more would he find out about his father to destroy the image Arthur held of him? He was so sick of everyone knowing more than him. He was the king, after all. It was his job to know important things like this.

He pulled his hand out of Merlin’s.

“It’s going to rain,” Kilgharrah said mildly, as if he hadn’t just dropped a mess in Arthur’s lap.

“What else can you tell me?” Arthur asked.

Kilgharrah looked down at him and Merlin. “I knew both your fathers,” he said. “They were both difficult men. They were both stubborn, always sure they were right, unwilling to share what power they had. If you are not careful, young king, you may suffer the same fate.”

“My father was a great king for many years,” Arthur said. “How is that a bad fate?”

“What kind of king do you wish to be?” Kilgharrah asked. “Do you want to rule as he did?”

Arthur clenched his teeth. Based on everything he’d been learning, he wanted to be nothing like his father, but that was private. He still wasn’t going to disparage his father’s name.

“You have a great choice in front of you,” Kilgharrah said. “And what you chose will determine the fate of all Albion.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked.

“Exactly as I said. You can either embrace your destiny, or you can run from it.”

“What is my destiny?”

Kilgharrah’s mouth sort of twitched, almost like a smile, but he said nothing.

“What is my destiny?” Arthur asked again.

“That remains to be seen.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Kilgharrah did his almost-smile again. “You are on the right path. You must trust your heart.”

“That’s what Morgana told me.”

Kilgharrah nodded. “The witch can be very wise.”

“Why do you call her that?” Arthur asked.

“That is what she is. She is the witch, you are the king, he is magic, I am the dragon.”

Arthur turned to Merlin. “Is he always this mad?”

Merlin grinned. “He has his moments.” He looked back up at the dragon. “What else can you tell us?”

“Your destinies are entwined in more ways than one,” Kilgharrah said, a bit of a chuckle to his voice. “I must go before the rain.”

“That’s it?” Arthur asked.

Kilgharrah eyed him. “What else would you like?”

“Something useful!”

“I have given you what I can. The rest is up to you. Farewell.”

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hand and tugged him back as Kilgharrah stood on his hind legs and began flapping his wings. He was a terrifying sight, and then he was off and gone.

When they were alone, Arthur turned to look at Merlin, who just looked amused.

“That was… truly enlightening,” Arthur said.

Merlin sniggered. “Well, you did find out about Morgana,” he said. “At least there’s that.”

“Yes, splendid news, that.” Arthur sighed and gently extracted his hand from Merlin’s. “I don’t suppose Mordred is my long-lost brother, is he?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“I guess… I should go talk to her.”

“Probably couldn’t hurt.”

Arthur sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I wish people would stop telling me to follow my heart.”

“Do you have a bad one?” Merlin teased.

Arthur smirked. “No, it’s just not particularly useful advice. What if my heart was telling me to carry out my father’s wishes regardless?”

“Does that mean it’s _not_ telling you that?”

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe a chat with Morgana would help,” Merlin said. He headed back into the woods, and Arthur followed.

~~~~

When they reached the village, Merlin went up into the tower, and Arthur headed for Morgana’s house. The windows were still all shuttered.

He knocked, and she opened the door a moment later.

“King Arthur,” she said, stepping aside so he could come in. “How can I help you?”

“I met Kilgharrah.”

“I know. I told you, I saw.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “I thought you meant Aithusa.”

“You met her, too? Emrys is really doing it right.”

“Does no one call him Merlin?”

“Does anyone call you Arthur?”

She had a point. But Arthur wasn’t here to talk about that. “Listen, the dragon, he told me…”

“Yes?”

“He said Uther was your father.”

Morgana just looked at him, her face giving nothing away. “Did he now?”

“It’s not… true,” Arthur said. “Right?”

“What makes you think it’s not true?”

“He never said…” Arthur shook his head. “There’s no record of it.”

“Why would there be?” Morgana asked. “Did the court take note of every women Uther brought into his bed?”

“Then he…”

“He left me to my mother and her husband. I had a good life, until they died. I reached out to Uther, but he wasn’t willing to admit I was his, and he found out about my dreams.”

“He hunted you,” Arthur said.

Morgana nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I’m not... I don’t want to be like him,” Arthur said, his voice low. “I don’t want to be so hard-hearted, so… so vengeful.”

“You don’t have to be. Be the bigger man. Correct his mistakes. Do what must be done.”

“How can I trust my heart,” Arthur asked, “if what it’s telling me is going against everything I was raised to believe?”

Morgana stepped forward and put her hand over Arthur’s chest, over his heart. “Just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it’s not right. Think of all you’ve seen here. You _know_ what to do.”

Arthur shook his head and stepped back. He looked at her for a moment, trying to find a piece of Uther in her features. What he saw was unnerving, so he left, pulling open the door and letting it swing shut behind him.

He headed toward the tower, and Merlin was outside, making their supper, but Arthur didn’t stop. He kept going, heading for the woods, needing time alone and space to think. He didn’t even register that it was raining until he was most of the way to the river.

He slowed down, stepping carefully over roots and dodging branches instead of crashing through them. When he reached the river, he stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky, letting the rain hit him full in the face.

But stopping gave him too much time to think, so he continued on, turning left and going for the part of the creek where Merlin had called Aithusa. He didn’t expect to see her there, he just wanted someplace quiet and out of the way and where he wouldn’t be found.

He reached the spot soon enough and found a large rock to sit on. He tossed his flower crown aside and rested his head in his hands, taking a deep breath.

This was his fifth day with the druids. It hadn’t even been a full week ago that he was in the castle, dreading this visit and sure in his plan to uphold the magic ban. He had been _so_ sure. He still felt it, that gut instinct that magic was evil, that it could not be allowed, that magic users had to be persecuted. That message had been ingrained in him from birth, by the person he’d trusted and loved most in the world.

But it turned out that person was nothing like what Arthur had thought. He had thought his father cold and distant, yes, but not cruel, not murderous, not hateful.

“Sire?”

Arthur sighed and looked up to see Merlin making his way toward him.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked.

“You looked upset.”

“Did it not occur to you that I might want some time alone?” Arthur asked, looking back down at the creek.

There was a long pause. “Supper’s ready,” Merlin said. “If you’d like to come back.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Another pause. Arthur looked up to see Merlin heading back down the river trail.

“Wait,” he called out, standing up.

Merlin stopped and turned around, wiping water off his face. “What?” he asked.

“I didn’t mean…” Arthur sighed and walked over to Merlin. “I apologise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been short with you.”

Merlin looked surprised. “Didn’t think you were the apologising type.”

“It’s… not a common occurrence,” Arthur admitted. “But you were only trying to be helpful.”

“I was.”

Arthur brushed water out of his eyes and then ran his hand through his damp hair, getting it off his face.

Merlin smiled and reached up to help mess with his hair. “We’re going to have to comb it again when we get back.”

Arthur took Merlin’s wrist and lowered his hand, blinking the rain off his eyelashes. He stepped closer, wrapping his hand around Merlin’s and holding it to his chest.

“Sire,” Merlin said, his eyes darting between Arthur’s face and their hands.

“Arthur,” he said. “Please.”

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, and Arthur closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Merlin’s.

Merlin gasped, his lips parting, and Arthur moved closer. It took another moment, but then Merlin was kissing him back, getting his free hand on Arthur’s shoulder and leaning against him. Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand so he could cup his face instead, brushing his thumbs across those cheekbones, his fingers along that jawline.

Merlin huffed and grabbed his waist, as if he could pull him any closer. Arthur licked his lips, tasting the rain, and Merlin dove back in, his kiss desperate and demanding.

It started raining harder, pouring down on them, soaking their hair and dripping down their faces. Arthur kept breaking the kiss to push their sopping hair from their faces, but Merlin’s flower crown kept pushing his back down, and it was of no use.

“Let me,” Merlin said, pulling back a little. His eyes glowed gold, and Arthur gasped.

The air above them grew clear, and Arthur wanted to look up and see for himself how Merlin had stopped just a section of rain for them, but he couldn’t look away from Merlin’s eyes. They were blue again, their normal, brilliant shade, but Arthur had seen the gold.

“Your eyes,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin said, looking uncomfortable. “They… they do that.”

“It was beautiful,” Arthur said. He grinned, waiting for Merlin to smile in return before getting his hands on either side of Merlin’s long neck, feeling for himself how the gold ink there really was part of Merlin’s skin. He leaned in for another kiss, still smiling, and Merlin chuckled against his lips.

Arthur let their giddy kiss linger and then morph into something slower, deeper. Merlin moaned into it when Arthur licked into his mouth, and they stayed there, in their own private, dry bubble, until the rain stopped around them and the woods grew silent.

Arthur broke away and pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, catching his breath. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s back and held him close as if Arthur was going anywhere.

A toad croaked, a bird chirped, and the woods came back to life after the storm, animals coming out from their shelters and the overflowing creek winding its bubbling way through the rocks.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

“Merlin.”

Merlin smiled. “Supper’s still ready.”

Arthur gave Merlin a gentle kiss before stepping away. He found his flower crown and shook the rain off it before replacing it on his head. “All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

Merlin did so, taking Arthur on a diagonal path instead of along the river, getting them back to the tower a bit quicker than they would have otherwise. The stewpot was overflowing with rainwater, but Merlin had already brought their servings inside the tower.

Mordred was waiting for them by the stewpot though. He looked amused as they approached him, dripping wet as they were, and still wearing their flower crowns.

“King Arthur,” he said, “are you ready to write your message?”

“Not tonight,” Arthur decided. “You can tell Leon I am well. I will write to him tomorrow. Better yet, I won’t. I will see him the day after. Tell him no to worry.”

“Are you sure?” Mordred asked. “What if he doesn’t accept that?”

Arthur took off his ring and handed it over. “He will hold on to this for me until I return.”

Mordred nodded and left, the ring clenched in his fist.

Merlin took Arthur’s hand and led him up into the tower. “Come here,” he said once they were in inside.

Arthur stepped closer, hoping for a kiss, but instead Merlin pressed his palms to Arthur’s chest. His eyes glowed gold again, and then Arthur’s clothes were dry.

“Thanks,” Arthur said, looking down at himself. “That’s handy.”

Merlin smirked and did the same on himself.

Arthur sat on the bed, letting Merlin take the chair, and looked at the bouquet on the table.

“Did you… add flowers to this?” he asked, thinking it looked different than the one he’d made.

“No, I just brightened it up a little.”

“What does that mean?”

Merlin waggled his fingers, grinning. “Magic.”

Arthur had to laugh. “You’re a strange one, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled proudly and started in on his dinner.

They ate slowly, talking over everything Kilgharrah had said and everything Morgana had said after. Merlin didn’t push Arthur on his decision, but rather listened, nodding sympathetically when Arthur said how difficult it was, and didn’t join the chorus telling Arthur to listen to his heart.

“You’ve still got two more days,” Merlin said. “And you can take time after that to make your decision.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Arthur ate one last piece of bread and then scooted back on the bed until his back hit the wall. He looked across the table at Merlin, letting his eyes drink their fill. Merlin’s hair was still damp, and his flower crown was drooping. Arthur imagined his was as well.

Merlin looked back at him, and they gazed at each other for a long moment until Merlin glanced away, smiling.

“I think it’s… time for bed,” he said. “Or reading. Or whatever.”

“‘Whatever’ sounds good.”

Merlin’s lips twitched. “I think I’ll read.”

Arthur grinned, taking the hint, and helped Merlin set the table back against the wall. He grabbed one of Merlin’s spell books and settled down on the bed with it, looking up occasionally to see Merlin gazing at him from across the room.

“How’s the book?” he asked when he caught Merlin doing it for the third time in a row.

Merlin went a little pink but smiled. “Fine. How’s yours?”

“Don’t understand a much of it,” Arthur admitted. “Did you know there’s a spell that will bring statues to life? What would you ever need that for?”

Merlin shrugged. “Someone must have, at some point.”

“Mad.”

Merlin went back to his book, and Arthur to his, and they read in silence for a long time, neither willing to be the first to go to bed. Finally, Arthur caught Merlin stifling a yawn.

“Time to put out the torches?” he asked, getting up to set his book on the cupboard.

“Probably.” Merlin stood and stretched. Arthur went over to take his book from him and gave him a kiss in exchange, long and sweet. “That was nice,” Merlin said.

“I hope you sleep well,” Arthur said.

“You, too.” Merlin reached out and gave Arthur’s hand a squeeze. “See you in the morning.”

Arthur gave him another kiss and then turned away to get into his bedclothes. He took off the flower crown and set it next to the stack of books on the cupboard. When he turned back around halfway through pulling his shirt on, he saw that Merlin had somehow already managed to get totally changed and most of the way under the covers. His flower crown was on the floor next to his bed.

“That was fast,” Arthur said.

“Shush.” Merlin made a small gesture, his eyes glowing in the dimly lit room, and the torches on the walls put themselves out.

Arthur crawled into bed and fell asleep smiling.

~~~~

Arthur woke up when the bed covers were pulled off him. He rolled over, trying to cling to sleep. Then he heard a chirp and opened his eyes to see Aithusa on the foot of his bed, making a nest of his sheets.

“Good morning,” Merlin said, and Arthur looked around. Merlin was sitting at the table, tying together his and Arthur’s flower crowns, which had dried suspiciously well, into one extra tall crown.

“Hi,” Arthur said, his voice rough with sleep. “Was this your doing?” he asked, gesturing at Aithusa.

“She came to visit,” Merlin said. “She missed you.”

Arthur turned away to hide his smile and reached out to pet Aithusa. She chirped at him, nuzzling her head against his hand. When he looked over his shoulder, Merlin was fitting the new crown over his head. He’d turned the gold and red flowers all blue at some point.

Arthur admired the view for a moment before getting up and leaning across the table to give Merlin a kiss. “You weren’t kidding when you said you like flowers,” he said.

Merlin chuckled and ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, probably trying to get it lay flat. Arthur took the crown off Merlin and placed it on his own head.

“Now it looks even more like a bird nest,” Merlin said, standing up and rounding the table. He reached up, brushing his fingers over the flowers, and his eyes glowed a bright gold.

Arthur took the crown off to check, and all the flowers had turned red. He set it down on the table and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s back, pulling him in for a kiss. Merlin sighed against Arthur’s lips, circling his arms around Arthur’s neck and leaning into it.

Arthur backed up, pulling Merlin with him until he hit the bed and sat down. Merlin bent down so as to not break the kiss, digging his fingers in Arthur’s hair and tilting his head back.

“Come here,” Arthur said, moving back on the bed until his back hit the wall.

Merlin considered him for a moment and then crawled on top of him, straddling his waist and ducking down for a kiss. Arthur reached around to rest his hands on Merlin’s backside, and Merlin started pushing his hips against him.

There was a flutter of noise next to them, and then Aithusa landed on Merlin’s shoulder, covering his head with her wings and giving Arthur a curious look.

Arthur laughed and reached up trace his fingers along her wings. “Do you have something to say about this?” he asked.

Aithusa chirped and took off again, coming to land on the windowsill.

“I think she’s watching us,” Arthur said, slipping his hands under Merlin’s shirt and holding onto the small of his back.

Merlin chuckled, and Arthur leaned forward to kiss his neck. Merlin hung his head back with a sigh and got a hand on the back of Arthur’s head, holding him in place. Arthur licked and kissed all the skin he could reach, tracing Merlin’s ink with his tongue and lips.

“May I take off your shirt?” Arthur asked, his voice muffled against Merlin’s neck.

Merlin nodded, so Arthur leaned back and lifted it up from the bottom, slowly exposing Merlin’s middle and then his chest. Merlin pulled it the rest of the way off, freeing his arms and tossing it aside.

He was covered in the gold ink, strange swirling patterns covering his pecs and stomach and leading down lower. There were swathes of inked dragon scales on his arms, and feathers, and patterns Arthur had never seen before. There were words, too, or what looked like words except Arthur had never seen letters in those shapes before. There were suns and moons, crystals, leaves, trees, more and more flowers, flames, butterflies and moths, birds, symbols Arthur didn’t recognise.

Up close, the ink was a dark, shimmering gold that lived on Merlin’s skin, lived _in_ Merlin’s skin like it had been there all along.

He glanced up at Merlin’s face, and Merlin was watching him carefully, biting his lower lip. Arthur leaned in to kiss one of the designs on Merlin’s chest. He was beautiful.

Merlin started tugging at Arthur’s nightshirt, so Arthur pulled it off, and Merlin immediately got his hands on Arthur’s chest, tracing his muscles. Arthur let him explore for a moment, still taking in all of the gold ink, and then Merlin stood to take off his trousers.

His legs were covered in golden designs as well, from his hips all the way down to the tops of his feet. Arthur shimmied out of the rest of his bedclothes and lay down, pulling on Merlin’s arm until he lay down, too.

Arthur brought Merlin in for a long kiss, trailing his fingers down his front until he reached his cock. Merlin gasped and squirmed as Arthur wrapped a hand around him, grabbing hold of Arthur’s arm.

“Is this all right?” Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded and dove in for another kiss, licking into Arthur’s mouth as Arthur started stroking him. He rocked into Arthur’s grip, eager, and moved his hand from Arthur’s arm to his hair. He tugged a little, forcing Arthur to tilt his head back, and then he lavished Arthur’s neck with open-mouthed kisses.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed as Merlin started sucking on his neck.

Merlin pulled back and gave Arthur a filthy kiss. “Yeah?”

“Come here.” He turned onto his back, tugging on Merlin’s hips until Merlin got on top of him. Their cocks pressed together between them, and Merlin started rolling against Arthur, building up a slow, steady rhythm that had Arthur biting back groans. He dug his fingers into Merlin’s arse, pulling Merlin against himself, and threw his head back on the pillow.

Merlin took the opportunity to start kissing his neck again, and Arthur let a groan escape his lips. That spurred Merlin on, and he rocked his hips faster, sharper.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned, holding himself up with both hands on the bed and looking down at Arthur. His face was flushed, even his neck under the ink, and Arthur felt a shock of want deep in his middle.

Arthur leaned up for a kiss and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s back, rolling over so he was the one on top. Merlin covered his face with his hands as Arthur thrust against him, panting against his palms.

“Let me see you,” Arthur said, a bit breathless as their cocks slid together. He wished they had some oil, but it still felt unreasonably good as it was. He just wanted more of Merlin, more of his skin, more of his mouth, more of his warmth.

Merlin lowered his hands, snaking one between them and wrapping his fingers around both their cocks, holding them aligned as Arthur rocked against him. Arthur groaned and leaned down for a kiss. Merlin arched up into it, his lips slack.

“I’m—” Merlin gasped. “Arthur, I’m—”

Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s neck and Merlin moved both hands to his hair, holding him there as they rocked together.

Merlin came first, moaning, his grip on Arthur’s hair tightening as he shook. Arthur continued grinding against him, feeling Merlin’s come slick between them, and followed a moment later. It ripped through him, pulling a groan from his throat and making him tremble.

He continued sliding his cock against Merlin’s until Merlin grabbed his hips, holding him still. Arthur panted against Merlin’s neck and then lifted his head for a kiss. It was slow, warm, and Arthur rolled them onto their sides as it deepened.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, their lips brushing, “show me your favourite spell.”

Merlin kissed him again. “All right.”

He sat up, situating himself at the foot of the bed, and Arthur sat up to face him. Merlin reached out for Arthur’s hands and held them together, covering them with his own.

Arthur kept his eyes on Merlin’s face, watching his eyes burn, until he felt something fluttering between his palms.

Merlin let go of him, and Arthur opened his hands slowly, watching as a small blue butterfly emerged and started flying around their heads.

Arthur looked back at Merlin, who was smiling softly.

“Come here,” Arthur said, and Merlin leaned forward for a kiss. “You’re a wonder.”

Merlin’s smile grew wider. “Do you, um… do you want to come to the river with me?” he asked.

Arthur glanced down at the mess covering their fronts. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

~~~~

Merlin led the way to the river, and Arthur carried both of their clean clothes, letting Merlin pick flowers as they walked.

“Are you making another bouquet?” Arthur asked when Merlin had a fistful. “Or seven?”

Merlin shot him a grin. “I’m adding them to my flowers. The ones around the tower.”

“ _Your_ flowers?”

“Yes,” Merlin said. “Mine. I planted them. I make them grow.”

“What do you mean, you make them grow?”

“I help them,” Merlin said. “I don’t think the dirt there is the best for them, so they need a little encouragement.”

They reached the creek then, but instead of preparing to get in, Merlin headed right along the water’s path, taking Arthur deeper into the woods. Arthur followed, curious.

They walked for a while, and eventually Merlin came to a stop where the river looked like a proper river, wide and deep. He set down his bunch of flowers and began undressing.

Arthur watched, still captivated by the sight of all that gold on his skin.

“Coming?” Merlin asked as he waded in.

Arthur set their clean clothes down on a thick branch and added his bedclothes to Merlin’s pile before getting in.

The water was pleasantly chill, and Arthur dunked his head under, scrubbing at his scalp. He ran his hands over his front, fully getting rid of the mess from that morning. As it had been the first time, the water seemed to heal any possible ache or ailment he had. He felt new, refreshed, and ready for anything.

Merlin started floating on his back, so Arthur swam over, treading water next to him. He was just a stretch of skin and ink, and Arthur was still stunned by his simple beauty.

“Can you do any magic with the water?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s fingers flexed, and a sudden wave appeared, splashing over Arthur’s face.

Arthur sputtered and wiped the water out of his eyes. “I guess I deserved that.”

Merlin chuckled and stopped floating, instead getting his legs around Arthur’s waist. Arthur put his feet down to steady himself and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s back.

“All clean?” Merlin asked.

“Might have some gunk left between my toes.”

Merlin laughed. “That’s very attractive.”

“I thought so.”

Shaking his head, Merlin leaned in for a kiss. He tasted like the river, and Arthur thought he probably did too, but underneath that he tasted like Merlin, and Arthur let himself feast.

Merlin reached between them for Arthur’s cock and pulled on it, slowly and teasingly at first but then more surely as Arthur grew hard in his hand. Arthur’s lips went slack, and he hung his head back as Merlin worked him over. Taking that as invitation, Merlin ducked down and started kissing his neck, licking and sucking all his most sensitive spots. It didn’t take long to have Arthur shuddering, his come mixing with the water between them.

Merlin hummed against Arthur’s neck and then looked up with a satisfied sort of smile.

Arthur leaned up for a kiss, lowering one hand and pressing his fingers between Merlin’s cheeks. Merlin’s breath hitched, and Arthur rubbed a fingertip around his hole.

Merlin gave a high-pitched moan and grabbed hold of his own cock.

“Mine,” Arthur whispered, pulling his hand away from Merlin’s arse and wrapping it around Merlin’s cock instead. Merlin just groaned and rested his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder, letting Arthur take him apart.

He came quickly, jerking in Arthur’s lap, and Arthur used his free hand to pull him up for a kiss.

“Arthur,” Merlin moaned as Arthur kissed over to his ear.

“Mhm.”

Merlin gave him a rough kiss, and Arthur held him close.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until Merlin started shivering from the cold water.

“Should we head back?” Arthur asked.

“I guess we probably should.”

Arthur gave Merlin one last kiss before making his way out of the river. Merlin followed, and they helped dry each other off.

They dressed, and Arthur collected their cloths and bedclothes while Merlin picked his flowers back up.

“Tomorrow’s your last day,” he said, looking down at his array.

Arthur waited for the question, but it didn’t come. “Are you going to miss me?” he asked, and Merlin looked up smiling.

“Maybe.”

Arthur nodded. “Maybe I’ll miss you, too.”

Merlin gave him a short kiss and led the way back to the tower.

~~~~

Arthur spent the rest of his day interviewing the druid villagers, asking them to show him their magic and how they used to make their daily lives easier or better. Some of them only knew a few simple spells, while others, like Mordred, seemed to know everything there was to know about magic. He learned that the druids were able to speak to each other in their minds if they wished. He learned that all druids except Merlin, or Emrys as everyone insisted on calling him, needed spells in order to wield magic. He learned that it was commonly believed that Merlin _was_ magic, although he still didn’t understand what that meant.

When he’d seen and heard enough, Arthur took a stroll through the woods, picking up wildflowers as he went.

He had so much to think about, so much new information, so many conflicting instincts.

He had been raised to believe that magic was purely evil, and that those who practised it wanted nothing but power.

Nothing he’d seen in the druid village supported any of that. They used magic for simple tasks, or to communicate, or to create things of beauty. There was no power-grabbing, no in-fighting, not even much resentment about being forced to live in secret. People seemed happy, satisfied with the lives they’d managed to make for themselves, and grateful for what they had.

Arthur wandered deeper into the woods, following what might have been a trail made by an animal, until he came to the clearing where he and Merlin had met Kilgharrah.

It was empty, and Arthur lay down and looked up at the sky, resting his collection of flowers on his chest.

Tomorrow night, he would go back to the castle and resume his normal life as king.

Then, he would have to make his decision on what to do with the ban against magic.

He wondered what his council would think, what they would advise him to do. He thought about Leon, how steady and loyal he was, how open he had been to the idea of this visit, how curious he’d been about magic during their quick visit a few days before. Leon would never begrudge him changing his mind, his heart.

He did his best not to think about Merlin and how it was entirely possible they’d never see each other again after tomorrow night. Even if Arthur lifted the ban, there was no guarantee the druids would coming out of hiding. Maybe they’d disperse, free to live where they wanted, and Merlin would go with them and find a new life elsewhere.

Arthur did want to go back to the castle. He wanted to resume his normal life, but he didn’t think he wanted a life without Merlin.

That was too personal, though, and he couldn’t let that influence his decision on the ban. He didn’t want to end up like his father and let a singular relationship or act affect the entire kingdom.

He closed his eyes and resolutely did not think of that morning, of the glorious time he’d spent with Merlin the river and before that in Merlin’s bed.

A breeze ran through the nearby woods, rustling all the leaves, and Arthur breathed in deep. He so rarely got to experience nature like this, just by himself with no time constraints.

He reached for his ring, remembering belatedly that Leon had it. His hand felt strangely naked without it.

The rustling grew louder, more intense, and Arthur opened his eyes to see Kilgharrah descending on the field. He grabbed his flowers and scrambled to his feet, backing away.

Kilgharrah landed silently and gave Arthur a long look. “You have discovered your destiny, young king.”

Arthur had no idea what he was talking about. “Do you ever speak plainly?”

“When it is right to do so.” 

“Is now not that time?”

“What is it that you would require of me?” Kilgharrah asked.

“What is my destiny? How am I supposed to know what is right? And don’t tell me to follow my heart.”

“You already are,” Kilgharrah said. “Look at your hand.”

Arthur glanced down at the flowers he was holding. He had planned to give them to Merlin, perhaps for his collection or a fresh bouquet for the table.

But what did that have to do with Arthur’s destiny?

Unless Merlin was Arthur’s destiny. What was it Kilgharrah had said at their first meeting? Merlin and Arthur’s destinies were entwined in more way than one.

“It is not quite so difficult as you would wish it to be,” Kilgharrah said. “You know what you are going to do.”

“I have more time to decide,” Arthur said.

Kilgharrah nodded. “Perhaps. Do you really need it?”

Arthur sighed. He wasn’t sure he liked Kilgharrah.

“Young king, who do you imagine I will spilling your secrets to?”

“Merlin, for one.”

“I promise I will not share what you would like to say.”

Arthur didn’t know what he would like to say. So, instead, he asked, “Why did you say he’s magic?”

Kilgharrah smiled his strange smile. “Because he is. He is the greatest and most powerful sorcerer ever to walk this Earth. There have been none like him before, and there may be none like him in the coming time. He is of the earth, the sea, and the sky. He is magic itself, born and living. Thriving, even.”

Arthur couldn’t comprehend such power.

And Merlin lived like it was nothing, like he was just one of his people, like he couldn’t overtake Arthur and the entire kingdom if he wanted.

“Like I said, you know what you are going to do.” Kilgharrah reared onto his hind legs. “I hope we will meet again, young king.” With that, he lifted off into the air and flew over the woods, disappearing over the horizon.

Arthur watched him fly off, and then he headed back to the tower. He clutched his flowers, walking as quickly as he could, needing to keep moving, needing to keep his mind focused on his destination and not the conversation he’d just had.

“There you are,” Merlin said when he reappeared from the woods. He was standing over the stewpot, stirring whatever he’d made them for supper. “What’s that?” he asked, gesturing at Arthur’s hand.

Feeling silly, Arthur held out his flowers. “For you,” he muttered.

Merlin took them and gave Arthur a soft kiss. “Thank you. Is this what you went off into the woods for?”

“I went to think.”

“Oh? And how were your thoughts?”

“Interrupted,” Arthur said. “I met Kilgharrah again.”

“Was he any more helpful this time?”

Arthur shrugged. In truth, he wasn’t sure.

They ate supper outside, mostly in silence as Arthur thought over everything he’d seen and heard that day.

“You seem… I don’t know,” Merlin said, frowning as he set down his empty bowl. “Very distracted.”

“I’m running out of time,” Arthur said. He finished up his stew and set his bowl on top of Merlin’s.

“If it helps, tomorrow night I’m going to formally request that you take a few more days to make your decision.”

“The council and I figured as much.”

“Does that not help?”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know what would help at this point.”

“Is there anything I can do to help take your mind off it?” Merlin asked lightly.

Arthur smiled, the weight on his heart easing a bit, and let Merlin take him up into the tower.

~~~~

Arthur woke up warm and cozy, one of Merlin’s arms wrapped around his middle and one of Merlin’s legs hooked over his hip. He slotted closer, burying his face in Merlin’s chest and trying to drift back off.

Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur and gave a low murmur to indicate he was awake. Arthur stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the peace and the quiet and the simple bliss of being wrapped in Merlin’s embrace.

He was starting to nod off again when Merlin’s hand slipped lower and grabbed hold of his arse.

Arthur smiled and bit at Merlin’s chest.

“Morning,” Merlin said, bringing his hand back up. He tugged at Arthur’s hair, and Arthur leaned his head back so they could kiss.

Arthur allowed it for a while, but then he turned onto his other side, back pressed against Merlin’s chest, and pulled Merlin’s arm back over him. He laced their fingers together and held their hands against his chest, smiling as Merlin curled closer around him.

“Any good plans for your last day?” Merlin asked, his voice low in Arthur’s ear.

“Do you have anything left to show me?”

“What would you like to see?”

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at the ink on Merlin’s wrist, brushing his fingers against it.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose I should ask what you want. We haven’t talked about it.”

“I think you know what I want.”

“Yes, but… what are you envisioning? What would your Camelot look like?”

Merlin pulled his hand from Arthur’s grip and wrapped his arm fully around Arthur instead, tugging Arthur as close as he could get.

“Druids allowed back in the city and towns,” he said quietly, “and treated well.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do _you_ want?” Arthur asked.

Merlin was silent for a long time. “What I want,” he finally said, “is for you to be happy with your choice.”

Arthur frowned. He wanted a better answer, a truer answer, but he knew he wouldn’t get it.

They lay there in a thoughtful quiet until Aithusa soared in through the window and came to rest on Merlin’s table.

“She’s going to miss you,” Merlin said, untangling himself from Arthur and sitting up. “She never visits me this often.”

Arthur rolled out of bed and went over to pet Aithusa. “Will she learn to talk like Kilgharrah?”

“Hope so.” Merlin came over and brushed his fingers along Aithusa’s scaly tail.

“Any chance she’ll be less cryptic?”

Merlin chuckled and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s shoulder. “Probably not.”

“No,” Arthur said, “wouldn’t want to break with tradition, I suppose.”

Merlin stepped away to get dressed for the day, and Arthur watched as his gold ink got covered up by his clothes, wondering if he’d ever see it again. He put on his scarf, covering his neck, although he left his hands bare.

When he was dressed, he picked up Arthur’s comb and ran it through Arthur’s hair a few times. Arthur ached a little, knowing he would miss this when it came time to be tended to by his servants again.

“I’m going to go check on my flowers,” Merlin said when he was satisfied. “Would you like to come?”

“Go on,” Arthur said. He stayed behind to get dressed and pack up his things. He put all his clothes in the sack he’d brought with him, as well as his comb, and then put it on the table along with the court records book. He surveyed the room, checking he hadn’t left anything, and caught sight of the red flower crowns Merlin had tied together, sitting on top of some of Merlin’s books on the cupboard.

He picked it up, amazed that the flowers hadn’t wilted and suspecting Merlin might have done something to prevent them from doing so. He added the crown to his sack and went down to see Merlin and his flowers.

Merlin was knelt down, his fingers pressed to the ground, his eyes glowing gold as he shared his magic with the flowers to help them grow. Arthur watched until Merlin spotted him and stood, smiling.

“I have to make a new crown for tonight,” he said, and Arthur wondered if he knew Arthur had taken the existing one. “Any requests?”

“For what?”

“Colour.”

Arthur thought back to their first meeting, when Merlin had been Emrys, and the flowers he’d worn on his head that night.

“Blue,” Arthur decided.

Merlin grinned. “Blue it is.”

Arthur let Merlin give him a kiss, then he stepped back. “I think I might go talk to the villagers again,” he said. “Give them some final words.”

Merlin looked pleased with that plan.

Arthur headed off and wandered through the houses, nodding and waiving at the druids but not stopping to speak with anyone. He found that he didn’t have it in him, didn’t have the energy, didn’t have any more room in his head or his heart.

After circling the village three times, Arthur went back to the tower. Merlin wasn’t there, so he grabbed his sack and went to the cliffside, sitting and staring blankly over the houses.

~~~~

No one bothered Arthur as he sat on the cliff, not even when a pack of druids went up into the woods to ready the clearing for the meeting.

Mostly Arthur was grateful, but part of him did want someone to come along and invite him to do something, to distract him, to keep him occupied until it was time.

The time came without any distraction, though, when the sun set and Mordred came out of the village and over to him.

“Emrys asked me to take you to the clearing,” he said. “He’ll follow when he’s ready.”

Arthur nodded and, hoisting his sack over his shoulder and holding the court records under one arm, followed Mordred up the cliff and into the woods.

The clearing looked much the same as it had the night of the first meeting. The druids had lit a bonfire and torches on the path leading up to it. Arthur set down the book and his sack and waited, although he did not have to wait long.

Leon appeared with the rest of the entourage, advisors and knights and servants, and went over to greet Arthur.

“You survived,” he said, holding out Arthur’s ring.

Arthur slipped it on, glad to have it back. “I survived,” he said. “Castle still standing?”

“For the most part,” Leon said with a smile. “It’s good to see you again, sire.”

“King Arthur?”

Arthur looked around to see Mordred addressing him. “Yes,” he answered.

“Emrys is coming.”

Leon shuffled into the pack of advisors, and Arthur took his place in front of them.

Just as they had done at the first meeting, a group of druids walked in front of Merlin as they rounded the bonfire, and then they parted, revealing him.

He held the staff again, and wore his half-crown under a crown of the blue flowers Arthur had requested that morning. He was without his scarf, but the high collar of his shirt covered any ink that might have been visible. He had on gloves, and his thick cloak hid his thin frame. There were chains dangling from one of his ears again.

He stood stiffly, barely blinking and certainly not smiling as his gaze fell on Arthur.

“Sire,” he said, his voice low and important. “You have fulfilled the arrangement of living with the druids for seven days.”

Arthur nodded, searching for any sign of the Merlin he’d come to know beneath the facade of Emrys. He’d forgotten how powerful Merlin looked like this way, how striking he was in the moonlight.

“You have seen our ways, seen our magic, and learned our hearts. Now, we must ask you for one last thing.”

Arthur resisted the urge to say ‘anything’ and waited.

“Please take time to consider your decision,” Emrys continued. “At least another seven days.”

Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of spending another week agonising over this, but he nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I will make my choice very carefully.”

Emrys blinked rather than nodding. “Thank you.”

Arthur gazed at him for a moment, waiting for something, anything else, but nothing came.

He turned toward his men and started getting ready for the journey home.

~~~~

The ride home was short, and before he was ready for it, Arthur was alone in his chambers with food and no one for company.

He was glad for the food as he hadn’t eaten before the meeting, but he hated the silence and the prospect of sleeping in his overlarge bed alone.

Arthur ate slowly, savouring the tastes of the castle food, which was prepared by the best cooks available. Here he had wine to go with his meats and fruit, and if he wanted more of anything all it would take was a quick shout to whichever guard was stationed outside his doors.

He missed the charm of Merlin’s stews, though.

He missed having someone to talk with as he ate.

When he finished eating, Arthur stood by his window for a long while, watching the occasional person walking across the courtyards.

It was time for bed, but he wasn’t tired. He was restless.

He was considering going on a walk when there was a knock on his door.

“Enter.”

It was Leon, and he came in with a smile.

“I just wanted to see how you’re settling in,” he said, helping himself to the last of Arthur’s supper.

“Do you get fed when I’m not here?” Arthur asked.

Leon just laughed. “Well,” he said, “how are you settling in?”

“Poorly,” Arthur admitted.

“Thought you might be.” He settled himself at Arthur’s table. “Go on, then.”

“Go on with what?”

“All those pesky thoughts in your head, I can practically see them myself.”

Arthur sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. “I don’t…” He licked his lips and tried again. “Everything’s… conflicted.”

“What was it like living with the druids?”

“Fine,” Arthur said. “Good. They’re a fine people. No one even used magic the first few days I was there, I had to ask them to show me. They’d been warned not to.”

“Probably smart of them.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed. “I don’t know what I would have done if they’d just casually used it in front of me on that first day.”

“What did you do?” Leon asked. “When you finally saw it, I mean.”

“Nothing,” Arthur said. “There wasn’t anything to do.”

“What was it?”

“Fire. A dragon made out of fire.”

“That’s what they showed you?” Leon asked.

“That’s what Merlin showed me, the first time I asked.”

“He seems very odd.”

“He’s nothing like the Emrys nonsense he puts on in front of everyone,” Arthur said. “He’s very… gentle. And powerful.”

“I suspected powerful. I mean, there’s a reason he’s the leader.”

“It’s more than that,” Arthur said. “He’s magic. He _is_ magic. That’s what everyone kept telling me, anyway. He doesn’t really deny it, but he doesn’t seem interested in it, either. He just likes his flowers.”

“Flowers?”

Arthur went over to the sack that had been deposited on the floor and pulled out the flower crown. It was a little crumpled, a little wilted, far away from Merlin’s magic. He handed it to Leon and wished Merlin were there to change the colours again.

Leon looked at it curiously. “What other magic did you see?” he asked, setting it on the table.

“Just ordinary things,” he said. “People using it to carry water, to move objects, to sew. They live their lives like anyone else, magic just happens to be a part of it.”

“Can anyone do magic?”

“I don’t think so,” Arthur said. “I didn’t ask. I certainly can’t, though.”

“You tried?” Leon asked, his voice quiet.

Arthur nodded. “Merlin had some spell books. Nothing happened when I said them out loud.”

“Imagine being born a druid,” Leon said, “and just having access to magic for no reason other than your parentage.”

“Imagine being born a druid and having to live in hiding your whole life just because some king was scorned.”

Leon’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Arthur figured he wouldn’t dare say, or even ask, anything negative about Uther. Not in front of him, at least.

“I found out a lot of things,” Arthur said after a while. “Things that… don’t paint my father in a good light.”

“Every man has flaws,” Leon said carefully.

“Yes. What would you say mine are?”

“Sire, please,” his smile tight.

“I’m serious,” Arthur said. “Tell me.”

Leon looked at him for a long moment, then down at the flower crown. “You can be stubborn.”

Arthur laughed. “That’s all?”

“That seems to be most relevant.”

“How do you mean?”

Leon looked up at him again. “You had your mind made up about the magic ban before you’d stepped foot in the druid camp. You were _so_ sure. You barely listened to anything your own council had to say on the matter. I bet it took everything you had to open yourself up enough to honestly consider the druids’ side of the story. And now here you are, fully armed with whatever information and experiences you gathered, and you’re still torn. You’re stubborn.”

Arthur stood and crossed to the window, opening it to let air in.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked. “My father…”

“Was his own man,” Leon said. “And you are yours. Don’t let him hold you back.”

Arthur sighed and turned, leaning against the windowsill and crossing his arms as he considered Leon. “I think I’m—”

Something heavy landed on Arthur’s head, and Leon gasped, jumping to his feet.

Arthur reached up and wasn’t entirely surprised to feel scales under his fingers. He tilted his head, and Aithusa climbed down onto his shoulder instead.

“What…” Leon looked almost frightened, standing behind the table with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Not to worry,” Arthur said. “She’s a friend.”

“A _friend_ ,” Leon repeated.

“Aithusa. She’s a dragon. Here, come see.” Arthur pushed away from the window and went over to the table.

Leon set his jaw, swallowed tightly, and reached across the table to touch the dragon for himself. Aithusa chirped, lifting her head so he could scratch under her chin.

“How did she find you?” Leon asked.

Arthur shrugged, and Aithusa dug her claws into his shoulder to steady herself. “I imagine she has her own magic.”

“Did you meet the adult one, like you said?”

“I did. You can’t even fathom how big he was.”

Leon smiled. “I’d like to see for myself one day.”

“Maybe you will.”

Leon met Arthur’s eyes for a brief moment and then stepped back. “I should let you get some rest,” he said. “I’m glad you’re back, sire.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur watched as Leon left and his servants came to collect his supper things and take his sack of dirty clothes. They all eyed the dragon on his shoulder but said nothing, giving him a wide berth and not even attempting to dress him for bed.

When he was left alone, Arthur went back to the window, giving Aithusa the opportunity to fly out.

“Staying the night?” he asked when she didn’t budge, reaching up to pet the top of her head.

She chirped, so Arthur closed the window. She took off, flying around his room a few times before coming to rest on his bed, right next to his pillows.

Arthur got himself ready for bed and crawled under the covers, careful not to jostle the mattress too much and disturb Aithusa.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, trailing his fingers along her tail. She blinked at him, and Arthur smiled to himself before rolling over and going to sleep.

~~~~

Arthur woke up with a weight on his back. He glanced over his shoulder to see Aithusa curled up between his shoulder blades, sleeping peacefully.

He pressed his face into the pillow with a smile and took a moment to appreciate the fact that he had apparently managed to make friends with a dragon.

He lay in bed for a while longer, watching the sun rays coming through the window and thinking, blissfully, about nothing.

Eventually, though, he had to get up, so he reached behind himself and gave Aithusa a few pats. She stirred, made a purring sort of noise, and climbed off his back.

“Thanks,” Arthur said, sitting up. He petted her for a minute and then got up to open the window in case she wanted out. She stayed on his bed, though, and went back to sleep.

Arthur let in his servants to dress him and comb his hair, and he kept his eyes on the dragon, thinking only of the day ahead. He would have to brief his council on his time with the druids and then most likely spend hours listening to them debate what he should do.

“Sire,” one of his servants said, glancing at Aithusa.

“Leave her be,” Arthur said, and his servants bowed and left, unable to make his bed with her in it.

He decided to go for a ride, so he went to the stables, got his horse, and headed out. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, and he thought he was letting his horse guide the way, but then he ended up at the same clearing from the night before.

Arthur slid off his horse and sat in front of the fire pit, poking at the remnants of firewood with a stick. He didn’t have much time as he would have to make his appearances with the council soon, but he stayed as long as he dared. The woods were quiet, peaceful, and Arthur needed a slow introduction back into the hustle and bustle of castle life.

When he knew he was already late, Arthur finally rode his horse back to the castle. His council was all settled, talking amongst themselves when he arrived to the meeting.

“Good morning,” he said loudly, and the talk died down immediately as his advisors stood to greet him.

He sat himself at the head of the table and gestured for everyone to resume their seat.

“Is it true, sire,” one of his advisors asked, “that there is a dragon in the castle?”

“Yes.”

There was a low murmur.

“Is it safe?” someone else asked.

“Yes,” he said again. “She will not harm me. Or anyone else,” he added when that didn’t seem to assuage the council.

“Sire—”

“It’s not up for debate. Now, I believe you are all here to listen to my account of the week I spent with the druids.”

There was nodding around the table.

“Good.” He stood up. “The most important information I learned is why my father banned magic for only twenty-five years. He knew that magic would fight back, and that those who practised it would not tolerate a permanent ban. He feared for my life and possibly his own, which is understandable given he had just lost a wife.

He lost that wife to magic, although I do not believe it was on purpose. He dabbled in things he did not understand, choosing, instead, to be selfish and blind. Magic was never evil, and those who practised it were never after the crown.”

The room was still, silent, and Arthur let his story sink in before continuing.

“My father did a lot of damage to the magical community when his ban went into effect. He hunted down anyone he knew who practised and killed them if he could. Those that escaped went into hiding, including the druids and the dragons.

I saw magic when I lived with the druids. It was simple, useful, and nothing to be frightened of. It is my understanding, now, that those who practise magic can choose to wield it for good or for evil. The druids, as most others, have chosen good.”

Arthur paused again, looking around at his council. They were rapt. He’d never had their attention like this before.

“It is my wish to let the ban on magic come to an end,” he said. “I would have the druids reintegrated into our city and the towns and magic brought back into the daily life of Camelot.”

He glanced at Leon, who looked like he was fighting back a smile. Everyone else was staring at him in awe.

Arthur sat down and gestured for the council to do their work and advise him.

“What if the druids and other magic users do not wish to integrate?” Leon asked.

“Then that is their decision. All we can do is offer them the choice. I know at least one who would like to live in the city, and what I want is for him to feel comfortable living as himself, without fear or having to hide. However, if the rest do not trust us, it is our responsibility to earn back their trust. There have been twenty-five years of terror and mistreatment. I do not expect that to end lightly.”

Someone else chimed in about the dangers of dragons reintegrating, and then the council was off, debating each other, talking over each other, generally ignoring Arthur and doing what they did best.

Arthur looked at Leon, who gave him an approving nod, and smiled.

The discussions went on and on, and Arthur did his best to listen to their concerns, their ideas, their hopes. No one seemed wholly opposed to lifting the ban, and most of the arguments were on the logistics of how and when and what the consequences would look like. One advisor worried about the children. Another worried about the crops if dragons were allowed to roam free. Yet another worried about non-magic users being driven out of their jobs if those with magic could perform the same tasks quicker and better.

Arthur let them carry on, waiting for someone to get to a point he wanted to address.

Finally, it was Leon, who asked, “What will become of the druid leader?”

Heads turned toward Arthur, and he straightened up in his chair. “I would have Emrys join this council,” he said, “and appoint him Court Sorcerer.”

This was met with silence, and Arthur gave an easy smile to show that, yes, he was serious, and, no, he did not find this idea threatening.

“Would he accept?” Leon asked.

Arthur’s smile fell a little. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope he will.”

The council burst to life with discussions of what they would do if Emrys declined, if they should try to control his power, whether they would be safe with him on the loose.

Arthur just sat back and looked down at his ring. He knew he was doing the right thing. He knew they would all come to an agreement sooner or later. Probably later if things progressed at this rate. But agree they would, and then he could issue his decree.

Eventually the chatter died down, and advisors went quiet, all of them looking satisfied.

“We’ll pick this up tomorrow,” Arthur said, “and you can offer your recommendations.” He stood, excused himself, and went back to his chambers.

Aithusa was still there, although as soon as she saw him, she chirped and then flew out the window. Arthur watched her go, pleased with how the day had gone, and and gave himself a moment to hope that one day soon, Merlin would be at his side.

~~~~

The morning of the seventh day after Arthur returned to the castle found him lying awake in bed, listening to the sound of Aithusa breathing beside him. She’d become a regular visitor, spending most nights in Arthur’s bed before flying out to the woods for her days.

Arthur would be making his announcement that evening, telling the world that magic would be allowed back in Camelot.

It had been a long week, an exhausting week, but it had all been worth it. The council was all in agreement, the plans were all laid, and it was just up to Arthur to make the final move.

He only wished Merlin would be there to see the proclamation himself, but all of the council’s communications out to the druids had been met with silence. They were hiding again, tucked safely away and not responding to any of Camelot’s messages.

Arthur could hear shuffling on the other side of his door, probably his servants getting anxious to help him start his day. He’d been lying in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling and going over his plans for that evening.

When he finally got bored, Arthur rolled out of bed and let his servants in. Each of them carried a fresh bouquet for his room, which he had begun requesting. They brightened up the space and smelled nice, and they reminded him of his time with Merlin.

After setting down his bouquets, his servants bathed him, dried him, and dressed him. Aithusa watched everything from her spot on his bed, only flying out the window when his servants, who had been growing bolder with her, went over to make his bed.

“Sire.”

Arthur looked around to see yet another servant in his doorway. “Yes?”

“There is someone in the courtyard who claims to be here to see you.”

“Oh?” Arthur asked, trying to think who it could be. “Who is it?”

“He won’t say. He says he knows you.”

Maybe it was…

Arthur had the servant lead the way down to the courtyard. There were the usual people mulling around, moving place to place, taking care of the castle business. Standing under an archway was a man in a thick, dark blue cloak with the hood up, blocking his face.

He started walking toward Arthur, and Arthur’s heart leapt up into his throat.

“Sire,” the man said, and Arthur recognised his voice.

“Emrys,” he breathed, and the man lowered his hood.

Merlin stood before him, no crown, no flowers, only his high-collared shirt and his gloves remnants from their last meeting in the clearing.

“Sire,” he said again, bowing his head. “I hope you are well.”

“Very well. Would you come inside with me?”

Merlin nodded. Arthur turned and walked back into the castle, exquisitely aware of Merlin at his back. He walked past the usual meeting rooms, dismissed the confused-looking servant, and took Merlin to his chambers.

He let Merlin in, locked the door behind them, and turned to face him.

Merlin took off his cloak and looked around the room, his eyes finally landing on the bouquets.

“Flowers?” he asked.

“Do you like them? My servants bring them every morning.”

“You don’t pick them yourself?”

“I haven’t had the time,” Arthur said, and it was true. He’d been in meetings with his council every day that week, barely left with a minute to himself that wasn’t spent eating or sleeping.

Merlin nodded and continued looking around, avoiding looking at Arthur. Arthur couldn’t stand it.

“How are the druids?” he asked, taking a step toward Merlin.

Merlin stiffened a little. “They’re fine. They’re… they’re anxious. It is almost time for you to make your decision.”

“We tried to reach you,” Arthur said. “We haven’t heard anything back. I wanted to invite you to the castle, to hear the news for yourself.”

“I received your messages,” Merlin said. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, sick of their stilted conversation, “can we—”

“I am here as Emrys,” he said. “On behalf of the druids. Have you made your decision?”

The hope drained out of Arthur. Whatever he and Merlin had had, it seemed like it was gone now. Merlin was all business, all Emrys.

“I have,” Arthur said. “I will be making an announcement in public this evening.”

Merlin nodded. “Good.”

Arthur sighed. This wasn’t going very well. This wasn’t at all what he had hoped his reunion with Merlin would be.

Still, here was his chance to make an offer, and Merlin deserved it regardless of what was or wasn’t between them.

“I was hoping to be able to speak with you,” Arthur said, “because I have a… proposal.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not going to extend the ban on magic.” Merlin’s expression didn’t change, so Arthur continued. “And I was hoping you would consider a position on my council.”

“A position?”

“Court Sorcerer.”

Finally, Merlin smiled, his face relaxing into something happy and familiar. “Court Sorcerer?”

“You have shown me nothing but wisdom and strength,” Arthur said. “You would be a valuable member of the council. I would be honoured to have you as an advisor.”

Merlin looked pleased. “Thank you. I will consider your offer carefully.”

Part of Arthur was disappointed that Merlin hadn’t accepted right away, but the rest of him was excited he hadn’t turned it down.

They looked at each other for a moment, and Arthur said, “I miss you,” at the same time that Merlin said, “I should go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Arthur said, and Merlin flushed.

“Sire, it’s not safe for me here,” he said.

“You’re safe with me,” Arthur said. “After tonight, you’ll be safe everywhere. I won’t let any harm come to you, the same as you promised me, remember? Besides, I know you can protect yourself if it comes to it.”

Merlin’s smile was unsure. “That’s beside the point.”

“It’s not.” Arthur closed the space between them and took Merlin’s hands in his, wishing he wasn’t wearing those silly gloves. “I want you here, if you’ll have me.”

“Sire…”

“You know you can call me Arthur.”

Merlin licked his lips, and Arthur fought the urge to lean forward for a kiss.

“I enjoyed our time together,” Merlin finally said. “It would be… it would be nice to continue that.”

Arthur smirked and dropped Merlin’s hands, holding his waist instead. “It would.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said, voice low and soft. Arthur huffed and moved in for a kiss, and Merlin met him halfway. It was slow, tender, and Arthur let himself get lost in it until Merlin pulled back. “I missed you,” he said.

Arthur tugged on Merlin’s gloves until they slipped off, and then he brought one of Merlin’s hands up to his face, feeling Merlin’s skin against his. He pressed a kiss to the back of Merlin’s hand and then brushed his thumb over that spot, admiring the gold ink visible there.

“Would you stand with me tonight when I make the announcement?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

“If you are. I guess you haven’t actually accepted my offer yet, but—”

“I accept.”

Arthur grinned. “Good. Then yes, I’m sure. Maybe Aithusa will make an appearance as well.”

“Has she been visiting you?”

“Nearly every night.”

Merlin grinned. “Good.”

Arthur shifted closer, rubbing his nose against Merlin’s. “Show me some magic,” he said.

Merlin chuckled and stepped back, walking over to the bouquets. He held his hands out, brushing his fingers over the flowers, and the colours brightened, some of them changing completely, and the blossoms grew bigger, easier to see from where Arthur was standing.

“Do you want to take a walk?” Arthur asked, moving over to take Merlin’s hand in his. “I can show you the town, and we can pick some flowers so you can have them to wear tonight.”

“Will you wear them, too?”

“I’ll have to wear my crown.”

Merlin brushed his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You could wear both.”

“I could.”

Merlin smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Let’s go take that walk.”

Keeping Merlin’s hand in his, Arthur led the way out of his chambers and out of the castle.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading :)
> 
> Don't forget to leave some love for schweet_heart's incredible art at her post here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167180>

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[ART] bloom how you must, wild until we are free](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167180) by [schweet_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart)




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